Cute…

        Cute… I have always been cute.  From the time I was little.  “She’s cute”  is what I heard.         I was small, bouncy and cute.  It was fun.  No one expects much from you when you’re cute.  Teachers especially.  Some were surprised when I graduated from High School.  Most were astounded when I received my college diploma. 

        My mother was beautiful.  So much so, people stopped and stared.  The just smiled at me.  My daughters are beautiful also.  Folks stare at them too. 

       I’m in my 60’s now.  Cute is not appreciated so much.  I always wanted to be beautiful.  When I was young, I thought I’d grow into beautiful like my mom.  It didn’t happen.  Now it’s too late.

       S’T

       I guess God wanted me cute.  Folks don’t stare.  Many think they know me.  A familiar face.  I’m not a threat to anyone.  Cute.  Friendly.  Perhaps Cute is OK.

Has to be—God made me that way and I have to accept what I am.

My husband even thinks my feet are cute.  I drive a cute, little red car.  Cute is OK...

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