Potato Head

I ate a potato and then my head turned into a potato, and now I feel queasy around starch. It's really hard living with a head that's a potato. I don't mean a normal-sized potato, I mean a massive potato, like golden retriever size potato, on the top of my head, with eyes and nose and mouth and ears and a root instead of hair on the top. My body is so incredibly unbalanced with a giant potato for a head and I constantly bump against door frames. Little bits of potato go everywhere and I bruise and I bet if you peeled me there'd be green and brown blotches from where I keep hitting my potato head against the entirely non-potato-friendly door frames.
I am so confused as to what to eat. Does having a potato for a head mean potato eating is cannibalism? It's not like my entire body is a potato. It's just my head. But if I eat potato, will my body still be able to process it? Because I'm pretty sure potatoes don't normally eat potatoes. Mostly because they don't have mouths. They eat sun or minerals or something. So I eat wheat and meat and cranberries and stuff instead but I'm just so confused, and my little potato mouth - so out of proportion with my potato head! - has a lot of trouble chewing. It's ever so soft, my potato mouth, about as soft as a potato, which you might think is hard, but is nowhere near as hard as teeth, which are bones after all. My potato head has no bones.
I wonder if I have a brain still. A potato brain, a brain made of potato. Or a normal human brain, made of grey matter or whatever. And if I have a potato brain, a brain made of potato, does that mean that I think like a potato, or just that I have a potato brain? Because as a whole, I don't think potatoes do a lot of thinking. But that's just me not thinking, so who really knows? If potatoes could talk, perhaps they would tell us. But I'm the first - as far as I know - potato with a mouth, so I just don't know.
Life with a potato head is definitely harder than life with a normal human head, and not just because of door frames. The hardest thing is balancing my giant head, but that's not as bad as the stares I get. You'd think people would be a bit kinder and accepting - it is the 21st century after all - but no; apparently seeing a person with a potato for a head is just too weird, so they stare and stare and stare and I stare back but I don't think they can see my little potato eyes very well, because my eyes do look an awful lot like specks of dirt on a regular old potato. Except my head isn't a regular potato. It's my head. It's just a potato head.
I used to have a regular person's name, but now I'm just Potato Head. It hurts, but it's true, so I suppose it's fair enough. I've thought about growing a moustache and wearing white gloves and big blue shoes and round black glasses to complete the look, but then I would just be too much of an oddity. I'll save it for October 31st.
Some days I feel unloved.
Some days I wonder what I would taste like, and then realize I would taste like potato.
Some days I wonder if other people wonder what I would taste like, and then realize I would taste like potato.
Often I wonder when someone will try. Fork in hand, knife in the other, malicious grin on their face.
Having a potato for a head sucks.