1:41 am

I'm watching an episode of, "Cheers" on television.

I wonder if it's worse to be pretty and then get fat and ugly; or to be fat and ugly and just sorta stay fat and ugly.

Of course, I'm talking about Kirstie Alley. I remember seeing her in, "Look Who's Talking" and thinking, "Gosh, she's so pretty!"

Sharon Stone doesn't even look like Sharon Stone (whatever that means), even Brad Pitt is getting old.

Sometimes I look into the mirror and I rub my grubby fingertips over my face, the dips and puffiness. I scrunch my face together and say, "This is the future."

Thankfully I've never been beautiful. People say I'm "cute," cute is okay with me.

Beauty gets you into trouble, you get too much attention.

Being ugly is just as bad, people are mean to you just for existing! People also ignore you. No one wants to sit by you on a bus. No one asks where you are.

Although there are exceptions, these are just broad generalizations based only on looks - personality and talent factored in changes things.

While I was neither ugly or beautiful growing up, I had the unique privilege of being "cute."

And believe me, I knew I was cute. As a child I knew what facial expressions to make and what voice intonations to use to solicit the maximum amount of good will and affection from peers and adults. In my prime I was probably the equivalent to a brown barrio version of Shirley Temple.

I fondly remember that little girl. It's rare to feel powerful and fearless, I have been lucky to feel this way many times in life.

When I was six my family went on a fishing trip. Three of my cousins followed us in a separate car. One of my cousins was 16 the others were 14 and 12. My sister was 13. I had to wear those flotation device arm things, even though I wasn't in the water. My mom thought if a strong wind picked me up and carried me into the lake, atleast I wouldn't drown.

We sat on the bank of the lake in our lawn chairs. Everyone had a fishing rod. I carefully picked a plump earthworm from the plastic container that we had purchased a few minutes prior at a Bait and Tackle Shop.

The worm was slippery and it made me laugh. I told me dad I didn't think it was nice to hurt a worm. He said that the worms were bad worms that were defective because they had been born without mouths and were blind. He said they couldn't feel anything either. I thought it was sad they had been born like that and pushed the plump body onto the hook. I cast my rod and wedged it in the soft dirt.

I saw my 16 year old cousin sitting quietly holding the plastic carton of worms, I said, "Hey, it's okay to put the worm on the hook, they are blind and have no mouths and they can't feel anything."

He didn't say anything.

"Umm hey...I said it's okay. Don't you want to get a fish? My dad says if you get a fish you get to make a wish, like when it's your birthday, but it counts like 5 birthday wishes."

He said he didn't like worms. So I picked a worm and put it on his hook and walked away. I did that all day, sometimes the worms would slip off, so I'd put on a new one. He just smiled and didn't say anything.

I caught one fish, but it was a baby fish and my dad threw it back into the lake.

On the drive home my cousin asked if I wanted to drive back with them, I said sure and then he said, "You can sit shotgun."

It was the first time I got to sit in the front seat, I felt very grownup. I rolled the windows down and I changed the radio station. My sister asked why I got to sit in the front and my other cousins moaned and said it wasn't fair. My 16 year old cousin didn't even answer them. I tried to pick a radio station that he might like but I got caught up in a song by The Ronettes that made me laugh, he didn't seem to mind.

I remember the air smelled like it was going to rain, but it didn't.