One of them, Nora Lindberg, wrote some Haiku in response to A GROWN-UP KIND OF PRETTY.
This one was my favorite:
What kind of pretty are they-
Hair pretty, smart pretty, or Mom pretty?
Tough pretty wins every time.
I tried to decide which was me. LORD knows I can’t claim any kind of hair pretty. Mine gets cut maybe once a year and has all these gray strands. I mean, er, all these VERY EXPENSIVE SILVER SINGLE STRAND HIGHLIGHTS. *cough*
Nah. It’s fulla gray and I don’t care, lala. I am 45 years old and I don’t even know how to blow dry the stuff properly. My idea of hair is, “It is good to have some.”
I keep it relatively clean and when I remember, I rub it with this random defrizzing product I found on a grocery store discontinued product rack. It was 90% off, so I bought jars and jars of it. I’m not sure it does anything but it smells nice, so in it goes.
I have a THING about foot pretty. I need soft feet with cheery toes to look at during yoga or I become discouraged. But foot pretty didn’t make the Haiku so I abstain from claiming it. (Although I HAVE it, ya’ll.)
I think mom pretty requires a willingness to accessorize than I currently do not possess. Mom Pretty loves itself a colorful scarf, don’t it just? Mom pretty smells like vanilla? I am not sure. What IS mom pretty? Are you it?
I try to be tough pretty, but I amn’t tough. I am made of squashmallow and tofu. I am amorphous and bendable and easy to wound. I am working on this, as it is boring and ridiculous to let any old grouse with a poor social filter or a grudge wander by and ruin my day by being a buttock.
But! I DO think I am smart pretty. My BRAINS are quiiiiite fetching, thanks. They run fast and hot and I feel that were you to crack my head and take a peek, you would find an abundance of gray matter, arranged in a charming pattern of swirls.
What kind of pretty are YOU? Any of the four, or some other kind? And if you pick mom pretty define it. I may decide I am it, too, if I can be it without having to change my earrings or run more carpool days.