The Truth About Cats & Dogs

That's me. I can be so confident and I love my work. But I have so many issues about the way I look. How many friendships was I the short, dark, not cute and blonde creature? Actually, I wasn't short - I was tallish and gawky and not cute and petite and pretty and perky. Happiness and confidence in anything came later. I was good close friends with a would-be model named Andreann. She was Greek. She had long blonde hair that turned to spun gold in the sun. She had a cute, pretty face and about five or six inches less than I. But when we did homework, I shone. When we walked down the street, I was invisible.

A strange thing happened.

She married young and as far as I know she is still married to this guy. We hated one another. I was her best friend and he was competition. So was I to him. And I was ten times more intelligent than he probably ever was. But that wasn't his interest, any more than mine was to be a model. But that doesn't mean I didn't want to be pretty.

I normally wouldn't give up the brain and personality I have to be beautiful. And there is inner beauty. I have that. At least, other people tell me that. I have, physically, the worst smile. I have tea-stained and naturally not-white teeth, with a gap in the front ones, with strips across them as a monument to my years of wearing braces. And yet, people actually comment to me that I have a beautiful smile. It clearly has nothing to do with my actual physical appearance. It has to do with my happy demeanor and genuine smile. I smile because I'm a happy, content person who loves being me. I live a charmed life.

On Tuesday, I was down on the Play Deck and I heard one of the caddies remark to his friends that I was "cute". I loved it. I just loved it. I may be a total wackjob, but I'm cute.

It's fun to be me!

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