There once was a modest little lionhead goldfish named Clem. He wasn't much to look at, especially after his modest little wen (decorative head growth) was invaded by a nasty parasite called Costia. Costia ate quite a bit of Clem's wen, i.e., there was pre-Costia, when wen was, and post-Costia, when wen wasn't.
Now Clem was a pragmatic sort of fish. Like others of the ranchu/lionhead ilk, he didn't get excited about much. (Except peas and bloodworms. He did get considerably flustered about those. Yum!) So, though his head was shrinking rather noticeably, he wasn't self-conscious about it. It also helped that he had a good, rather large, medically-inclined friend who helped him with such problems. He trusted that she would make him well in the end. Er, head.
This confidence left him free to concentrate on his purpose in life. Clem, you see, was a star. More specifically, he was a circus-film-puppet show-sports star. He was going to be famous. (Though, being mild-mannered and modest, he did not let this go to what remained of his head.)
All in all, Clem was well-adjusted and rather satisfied with his life.
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