Tom Keen, giggles and Pee medals.

"can you tell me what your pain level is?" Tom keen asked me as I sluggishly blinked my eyes at him.

Tom Keen.

Tom Keen.

Who is Tom Keen?.....Tom Keen is my nurse. My brain registered.

If you do not know who Tom Keen is then you do not watch The Blacklist. Which, IS the best show. EVER.

 

"Your pain level?" He insisted.

 

I growled at him and held up 5 fingers.

I didn't  know why he was bothering me.

 

I also don't know why Tom Keen was in my Kaiser Hospital, but....details.

 

My eyes were so heavy. I wanted to sleep for weeks.

 

"She's going out again." I hear Tom say to another nurse. And He walked away.

 

I nestled back into my hospital bed, my eyes grainy and heavy.

I grit my teeth against the burning pain in my stomach.

 

I started to drift off and then wondered why I was in the hospital.

Why was I sleepy?

What was I doing there?

 

I forced my eyes open and stared at the clock.

Blurred numbers.

 

I concentrated.

 

10:something it said.

 

Wait. That is not right. That is late. I sat up, shook my head and took stock of my body.

 

#1. I wiggled my toes. I am forever convinced that while I am in a hospital I will be overcome with paralysis. I do not know why I feel this way, it is a thing.

 

#2. I smiled. I always have to check the status of my Bells Palsy. It was still there. This is oddly comforting to me.

 

#3. I looked for Tom Keen. Was he a figment of my imagination?

 

#4. I tried to remember.

 

I did not just have a baby, but my stomach hurt.

My stomach.

yes.

I had my stomach fixed.

Yay.

 

#5. I checked my boobs. Nope, there was no feel sorry for me boob job. How sad to them.

Boo.

 

Tom appeared again.

He looked grumpy.

His shoes offended me.

I frowned at him.

 

"Do you think you can eat this jello?" He asked

 

"sure."

 

I knew I had to eat, drink and walk to leave. I took two spoonful's.

It was yellow.

I have never seen yellow jello before.

I almost threw it up.

 

It was as if Tom could tell I was going to puke, because he appeared at my bedside.

"You okay?"

 

"Yep." I nod.

 

I picked up the cup of water and took a sip of it. I stared at the clock and wonder what took so long if they didn't provide complimentary boobs for me.

 

Tom appeared again, holding my bag of clothing.

 

"You feel like getting dressed?"

 

"Yep." I nod

 

"okay, lets stand you up."

 

When I tried to stand up fire shot out of my veins and surrounded my stomach in intense and irrational pain.

 

"FUCK!" I yelled, and fell back against the bed. "I'm sorry." I apologized.

 

Tom smiled "Cussing is good for recovery. It is a fact."

 

"oh good...good." I breathed

 

He laughed. (He would. EVERYONE knows that nurse Tom Keen is evil.)

 

I took a breathe and pulled myself back up.

It hurt like a son of a bitch.

My head spun.

 

I have to get dressed.

 

I held onto Tom and nodded at him.

 

"Would you like for me to call a female nurse in here with us?"

 

"No. I don't care."

 

He nodded and held up my dress. I slid off my hospital gown and pulled my soft blue dress over my head.

I sighed at the comfort and familiarity of my dress.

 

He held up my panties and I whined.

"Do I have toooo? I really, REALLY don't think panties are a good idea."

 

He laughed again "Nope. No panties Is always good."

 

He led me to my wheelchair and away I went. Outside to Mandy's car. She was waiting for me with the door open.

 

I will tell you that I honestly had no idea how I was going to stand up.

Or get into the car.

Or breathe.

 

I passed out on the way home, and the walk into my house and down the loooooong hallway to my bed was the longest walk EVER.

 

I kept thinking that Karma was going to jump on my and claw at my wound like a vicious animal that she isn't.

 

She didn't.

Instead she kept running in front of us and flopping down only to roll on her back, belly up. Tongue hanging out.

 

She is an attention whore. (but she comes by it honestly.)

 

The rest of the day was a blur of sleep,The lord of the rings on replay and Mandy.

Finally I had to pee.

Mandy had taken up residence on my couch and gave me a strict order to text her when I needed something.

 

Pee was something. SO I text her.

 

She came in and I looked at her in confusion.

Let me tell you why.

 

Every single movement that your body makes, comes through your stomach.

 

 I SWEAR!

 

I tried to roll. "NOPE!" I grunted.

 

I tried to scootch "NOPE!" I growled

 

Mandy pushed pillows behind my back as I slowly maneuvered.

At one point she used her body to held guide mine off of the bed "NOPE!" I shouted, when my stomach bit me from inside.

 

"Im just ganna never pee!" I whined up at her

 

"You will pee." She half laughed at me "Use your arms."

 

I pouted and rolled to my right, scooting down until my toes touched the floor.

My bed is very tall. I am very NOT.

 

I used my arms and pushed myself up....

 

Peeing was the hardest thing that I have done since I pushed a child out of my vagina. A CHILD.

It took me 20 minutes to get out of bed, limp into my bedroom and tare at my toilet.

 

"I don't know what to do." I looked at my toilet with fear and confusion.

 

Emma had come in to help me use the restroom. "I will hold your dress."

 

"ohhhhhhhhh." I whined.

 

As I whined and turned to back up while standing I caught a look of myself in the mirror.

"OHHHHHHHH." I moaned

 

"Just back up and sit down." Emma stated.

Emma is very matter of fact. She is fact based. She doesn't understand that I am scared to sit down on the toilet, she is just aware that I need too.

 

"Okay." I said while standing over my toilet, Emma holding my blue dress in her hands like a pee pee princess train holder.

 

I stood there for a minute like that. With my dress hiked up to my boobs and Emma turning her head away.

 

"Here I go." I stated

 

"Go." Emma answered.

 

"Here I GO." I stated....again.

 

"GO!" Emma demanded

 

It took me a full minute to sit down on the toilet and when I finally sat there and pee'd, I felt like I should get a medal for it.

 

A straight gold fuckin medal and a round of applause.

 

"Mandy I did it!" I yelled out to my bedroom. She laughed and congratulated me.

I knew she would be proud, you see Mandy loves me ONLY.

 

I felt so accomplished. I was so proud.

Emma was not impressed.

It took me twice as long to stand back up, and when I did I was sort of hunched over. I limped twords the door of the bathroom and I heard Emma snort.

 

Snort with a held back laughter.

 

I stopped walking. "Stoppit." I said quietly

 

She turned her head and scooted behind the door.

 

I looked away from her, which made me look in the mirror.

I stood there Hunched over, my sundress bunched up over my boobs... my hair a long, tangled hot mess.

I snorted.

I could feel it start.

 

"STOPIT." I insisted....I shook my head.

 

"I'm not DOing anything! I am sorry!" Emma exclaimed.

 

"Leave! Leave!" rushed out of my tightly clamped lips. "Oh no." I gasped as Emma dashed past me.

 

I started laughing. "nonono" I whispered between giggles.

 

"UTOH!" Mandy exclaimed.

 

Which made me giggle harder.

 

My stomach clenching with fire and level 5 pain. I couldn't walk. Or move. All I could do was try to think of something that was not funny. And when you are hopped up on pain pills, most everything is funny.

 

I don't think I saw Emma for the next 2 days. Every single time that I saw her, she made me laugh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Post-op

"Why the HELL haven't you told me you are having surgery?!"
Popped up on my facebook messenger.

I stared at the words and just blinked.

"Why the HELL would I?" I responded

Now, I know this may seen mean. but seriously...SERIOUSLY people act odd at times.
I am not one to blast on facebook about my personal medical issues.
Even the fact that I just wrote "issues" after the word "Medical" erks me.

I am not one to whine about my aches and pains. No one knows that my stomach has been killing me for over a year. No one except those who are in my personal life. Those who HAVE to deal with me simply because they are near enough to me to notice that I cringe when I bend over. Or wince sometimes when I walk.

"I'm fine." I say and move forward. It is not true. The fact is I have been worried about myself. Very Very worried.

November found me sitting in a dirty clinic, clutching my purse to my chest and looking around the place. "I hate this." I muttered

"Too bad. You need to get checked out. You will feel better once you get checked out by SOMEONE." Brandee answered me, very matter of factly.
She was trying to look comfortable, but there was NO way she could have been.

The place was dirty. It was icky. I HATED IT.
At the same time, I was happy that the place existed at all. I was called up to the front and asked about insurance. "I don't have insurance." I stated.

I was called back to the room and told to sit on the bed.

The bed was old. It was torn and dirty and I shuddered. I almost left, but I knew Mandy would be mad at me so I stayed.

The doctor came in and asked me questions. She asked me to lay down and she felt around on my stomach.
She poked.
She prodded.

She felt the protrusion and gasped "This feels like it is right on your ovary!"
She felt around some more. "Okay. I am not going to tell you for sure that this is what you have. But I am going to treat this like you have Cancer."

"What!?" I shouted at her

"Yes. Ohmygosh. You will need an ultrasound but that will have to be ordered. We will call you!." And she rushed out of the room.

I lay on the bed. Breathing. Trying to focus. "Well that was professional." I muttered while I stood up and exited the room.

Mandy and Brandee met me outside. We were walked out by the security guard.
I hated that place.

I told them what the doctor said and they tried to act calm.

I don't remember driving home. But I remember that once I got there, I got in the shower and I cried.
I sobbed and I cried and I washed away the dirtiness of the clinic.

At work the next day I had to make Brandee tell the beast that I would be having doctor appointments. I couldn't do it. I couldn't say the words.

"You need to go down and get Medi-cal." Brandee Stated

"I don't want medic-al! I want Kaiser!" I stomped

"Well." she shrugged her shoulders.

That night I went online for a Kaiser quote. After seeing the $489.00 quote I slammed my computer shut.

The next two weeks passed in a blur of worry, sporadic and erratic tears and no sleep. Clutching Emmas sleeping body to mine and praying.

One night my stomach hurt so bad I went into the  Emergency Room.
I need you to keep in mind that I do not enter the emergency room doors unless I feel like I am dying.

On the drive there Brandee assured me that we would find SOME answer that night. I nodded.

Once there they took blood and pee. They swabbed my cervix, poked my ass and put me in a machine.
The result to me was a happy one. There is nothing on my reproductive organs. I have a hernia.

I wanted to cry, I was so happy.

I left that hospital at least relieved. At least knowing that they did more then poke my stomach and declare me cancerous.

I went home and started the process for Covered California.

In the meantime I had to stop walking in the mornings. I had to stop going to the gym. Eventually I had to stop doing EVERYTHING but working.

On the weekends I would go to a party and cinch myself into spanx in order to wear a dress. I would find myself smiling at my hostesses and asking to use the restroom just so I could squat down and catch my breath. The pain was getting worse. I could no longer even walk around my house on the weekends.

I couldn't stand for long.
I couldn't bend over and clean the shelves in my classroom.

It took 3 months for the covered California process to go through.
It was worth it.

When I walked through the Kaiser doors 2 weeks ago I almost cried. I felt HUMAN.

And as I left his office I entered the elevators and leaned my head against the wood. I felt SAVED.  "Thank you Jesus." I whispered.


Within 10 minutes of talking to my doctor he had a surgery clinic appointment scheduled for me. It has been less then 2 weeks and my surgery is this Wednesday.

The rules of being a Passionista.

I was stuck.

I was smiling at my hostess for the evening and I was stuck.

My left heel was 'balls deep' in her soft green grass.
I had tried to walk around the grass because I consider it rude to walk on peoples lawn, however there were so many cars squished in the driveway, there was no room for my fat let alone my rolly bag.

*disclaimer: This Blog is not about any ONE of my passion parties. This blog is about MANY of them. There will be no names, or places described.

"HIIIII! I am so excited! Do you need help?" She squealed at me.

I love it when my hostesses are excited. It makes it so much easier to  stand in front of them and talk about Anal sex.

"No..No I am fine!" I insist and I push against my rolly bag. I hide my foot behind my bag and grasp the toe of my fabulous red heel with my OTHER toes.... and pull up.

RULE #1 of a Passionista:

Always act professional

 

 

I do this while smiling very brightly and chatting about the party. (I am hoping that if she is consumed by my perfectly applied red lipstick, then she wont look down.)

It works and I am free.

 

RULE #2:

Wear Red lipstick

(It seems to get you out of a bind)
 

 

 

 

I tiptoe the rest of the way to the door. I am happy because my hostess is excited. This is always good. This always means I will want her to get even MORE free goodies.

*********

After I set up I notice that during my 45 minute drive, my SPANX have become un-glued to my fat. I keep wanting to pull them up, and the crotch has fallen almost to my knees.
I bite my lip and ask the hostess if I may use the restroom. I don't usually Pee at my parties.
I don't pee, I don't eat and I don't drink.

It is a sticky situation to have $1000's of dollars of vibrating goodness just sitting on a table. Ready for the plucking.

It sounds bad. But it happens. I HAVE been stolen from.
I look around the room, pass over the shy woman holding her purse to her chest and spot the most tattooed girl there. She has pink hair and pierced cheeks. She looks the most trust worthy to me. "Excuse me. can you do me a favor?"

"OF COURSE!"

"Will you baby sit my dongs while I use the restroom? They get lonely."

"Shit yeah I will." She stands up and walks to my table.

I show her my masturbation sleeve. "DO you have any idea what this is?" I ask

"Nope!" She replies

"Good. Give your best Demonstration of what you THINK it could be and you get a baby sitter discount! I will be out in 2 minutes!

In the bathroom I lift my dress and Hike my spanks up to the proper position. Right beneath my boobs.
 I pant and grunt and while I do my heels are making clicking sounds as I lift my right leg and then my left.

I stare at myself in the mirror and then I laugh.

As I laugh, snot flies onto the mirror.

I sigh, clean the mirror and replace my dress.

As I walk out to the living room I hear the girl yelling at her friends...

"Back BACK you bitches! Come any closer to this table and Ill smack you with this here limp baby elephant penis!"



****

"What are you..a FREAK?" A pouty woman says to me.

I immediately feel myself get riled up. I am a Leo.....
I am a Leo who is Portuguese...Put them together and you can have some "bitch flair ups"

I calm myself down and smile at her while holding my plush bendy vibe in my hand.
At the moment I am fitting a C-ring onto it.

She looks at the Vibrator that I just lubed up and her eyebrow goes up.

"Excuse me?" I say in my sweetest voice

RULE#3:

Act like a Lady while slinging dildos

 

 

 

 

"Are you a FREAK or something? I mean you have all of this stuff."

I smile at her and continue fitting the cock ring around the Bendable Vibe. "I have all of this stuff because I sell it." I answer "Also, me being a 'FREAK' just depends."

She snorts and sits forward "It depends on what?"

I smile at her "Tell you what.... MY secrets start spilling when YOURS do honey. Tell me, do you like being choked during sex?"
She gasped.
She sputtered....She gasped again.

 I smiled at her "Sounds like you have gagging problems. I have a cream for that!" I say, and turn to begin the demonstration of the C-ring.

 

RULE#4:

Move forward...or....Just keep slinging

 

 

 

"Will you give this to me?" A girl asks. She is holding up my orange crèmesicle tasty massage.

"Sure." I respond

"You WILL!?"  (She is so happy)

"Yep. As soon as you give ME your credit card. We can go ahead and process that for you."

 I smile and wait..She sits back, rejected by -Lo

 

RULE#5

               Be Patient ...or...They don't understand this

shit costs you money too.

I am nearing the end of an event. I am at the LELO toys. And If you know anything about Lelo toys, you know that they are the curtain closer, the GRAND vibrating Finale.
I am demonstrating the Soraya when a woman walks in.

She is 3 hours late.
She apologizes and sits down.
She smiles at me and asks to see demonstrations of the things that she has missed.

I smile back at her, welcome her to the party and ask when she would like to schedule her party to see the Demos for herself.

She frowns.

RULE #6

Just say NO (but do it politely)

A letter to Jenny...

The very first memory that I have, in my entire life, Is of Jenny.

We were about 2, and while playing in my grandmother’s bedroom, we came across her bright red lipstick.

I remember the sun shining through the window.

I remember the drapes moving with the wind

 

…….and I remember Jenny........ Laughing at me and becoming my MIRROR in our fun game of “Let’s be grandma”

Jenny and I never understood why we got into so much trouble when grandma finally saw our masterpiece smeared onto our bodies.

 

As we grew up Jenny and I became the other ones safe place. We were like long lost twins reunited once again.

We couldn’t WAIT for family visits and we would lay in bed, side by side and catch each other up on our important life events.

 

Our first kisses, periods, perms.

We had secret words that we made up so that we could talk to each other without Cyndi and Brian understanding, because they were the "enemy."

We were CONVINCED that we were traded at birth and in OUR reality WE were actually sisters…our parents had it all wrong. They called us the Boppsy twins.
 

I tagged along to Jenny’s softball games, she endured the WILD that was Don Pedro.

Jenny and I grew up sharing secrets, dressing up and lip singing with our siblings. We had a secret hand shake and pink promised EVERYTHING.

She pissed me off by gleeking into my face.

I pissed her off by pretending that I didn’t care.

 

When I had my son, Jenny was there. She held my hand, scared to DEATH and muttered “ Dude…This all doesn’t look right”

When Jenny had baby Shaun, she insisted that “This is what I was made for.”

When Jenny had Tyler, it just confirmed it.

And when Jenny was pregnant with Maddy, her wish upon a star, her dream come true….She cried happy tears.

Her sons were her pride and joy, but she always wished for a girl.

When she was 7 months pregnant we had an appointment for a 3 D ultrasound. We walked into this fancy shmancy massage place.

It was quiet. It was Zen.

It was a place that Jenny and I had no business being in.

She lay down on a heated leather recliner, and I squished next to her on the floor. I was SO EXCITED. Jenny was SO EXCITED. Aunty Lois was SO EXCITED.

The ultrasound lady warned us that people were in the next room having massages, and that it was important to keep the atmosphere relaxed….. and ……calm.

Again, ….THIS WAS a place that Jenny and I had no business being in.

We tried.

I squished my lips shut with my hand and tucked into a ball on the floor. My heart was beating SO hard, and without even facing me or looking my direction Jenny told me “RELAX CUZ…REEEELAX.”

When the technician announced that it was a GIRL, I screamed through my fingers and shot to my feet.

Did I fist pump?? Yes I did.

Jenny laughed at me and tried to shush me. But through her shush, were her tears...

 

When Jenny was in the hospital last week, I walked in with Michelle Green.

We clasped hands and I could feel her body tremble. Some of The first words that Michelle said were “Ah. That laugh tho” And she shook her head.

That is what she said.

That laugh.

It was unique, it was organic. It had a life all of its own.

Jenny was a life force.

When Jenny came to visit me a few months back, we sat on my front porch smoking, drinking coffee and talking about Family. It never mattered to her what fights were happening in the family. SHE could talk badly, but so help ANYONE who said ANYTHING negative about her cousin, her brothers or her parents.

I double pinky promised that I would NEVER repeat this, but just this once, I think she wouldn’t mind.

She said to me about her brothers “ Don’t ever tell them Cousin, but It doesn’t matter what happens in life or how old we get, Matthew will always be my best friend, and Brian will always be my hero.”

 

I love you cuz and when it is my time to go, I hope you are there greeting me with that laugh.

 
 

Hi

Hallo, привіт, bonjour,Annyong Haseyo!

Apparently I have readers who reside in Germany, the Ukraine, France, Indonesia, South Korea and Russia!

Interesting Tid-bit that.

A very Dramatic dressing.

I am THAT annoying woman who takes forever to get ready.

I LOVE clothes and makeup and jewelry. I love perfumed body powder and glitter spray. I am addicted to lipstick and vintage clip-on earrings.

I practically DROOL when I see a pair that I have to have.

I make everyone wait for me ALMOST every morning before work. If I cannot find the earrings that I built my ENTIRE outfit around, then I will change the outfit and pout about how my life is ruined and then I will blame it all on Brandee.

I love dressing oddly. Or edgy. Or sexy.

I love pairing something vintage with something new.

I love even MORE taking something that everyone considers ugly and making it beautiful.

It is hard to be broke and love all of these things.

It is hard to be anyone around me when I cannot find something to wear.

Poor everyone else.


Yesterday.......


"Uuuuuuuh OHHHH! We have a new contender for my dress choice Emma." I say in a serious tone.

(And believe you me, I was quite serious.)

"I don't understand why you have contenders at all. Just wear the flowy dress I suggested."
 She shrugged and stuffed her nose back into her virtual book.

I sighed. "I CAN'T wear that one!"

"Well! Why NOT!" She insisted.

"BECAUSE! I don't feeeeel flowy. I have to wear how I feel."

"I don't know what you mean." She sighed at me ...(AGAIN)

"I MEAN I don't feel like wearing the hair that that dress requires me too. And the jewelry I would need too. It is flowy and upswept curls and pearls with a hint of pink and I cant do that tonight."

While I spoke my hands were moving about my head as if by magic my hair was transformed and pearls adorned my ears.... Just for a moment.

"Ohmygod. Just wear the black then."

"I don't want to do the black....well maybe. Yeah...maybe it will match the lip shade I want to wear."
I spoke to myself since Emma had stopped listening.

I went to our clothes room and took a black dress off of the metal rod. I felt it. I put it up against my body. I checked the length of my hem and all of the while, in my head my hair was being figured out. My eyeliner was being placed and the earrings were being chosen.

Emma walked into the room. "Just wear that one." She pointed to a black cotton dress.

"THAT one?" I sneered

"What is wrong with that one?" She grunted

"THAT is cotton, and you do NOT wear cotton with the shiny red shoes. No. That says 'Hello I am shopping at Walmart today and I may or may not have a bra on.' I need to wear something that says 'Hello, I am expensive. the items that you are buying from me are expensive..... Now happily give me your money."

I went back into my room and held up a white skirt with black stripes. It had a beautiful cut to it and I loved when I wore it with my jade green blouse.
In the blink of an eye my hair was chosen, my jewelry AND my shoes. That was easy.
It was decided.
I smiled and turned to Emma.
"No. NO. I don't like the shirt you are thinking about. It looks like a pirate."

"A pirate?" I questioned her

"Yes."

I smiled "I LOVE pirates! I can go with that."

My hair was being redesigned in my head even as she shook her head and grasped the skirt out of my hands.

"NOOOO"

"My life is ruined." I frowned and sat on my bed. My fingers touched a former contender that was laying across my bed. Simple, black, beautiful neckline.

I picked it up, slipped it on and walked to the mirror.
I frowned.
I sighed.

I put on a belt.

I frowned.
I sighed.

I turned to Emma.

You may wonder why I ask my 12 year olds opinion in my fashion choices. Why she is the ONLY person in the world who's advice I actually listen to. And the answer is simple.... Because she may ACT like she doesn't care, and act like she doesn't notice.... But she IS my daughter after all and when she DOES care, she has great taste.

She set her book down and stood up. "FINE if you refuse to wear the dress I want you too, you cannot wear that dress. The neckline doesn't match the belt. Put on the polkadots, red heels, red matte lipstick and pin-up hair. Now can I read?

Just like that my mind clicked.
CLICK
CLICK
CLICK
CLICK

Done.

I smiled and sashayed into the bathroom. Happy now that my brain could focus on what was needed.

I started the bath.

"Didn't you already take a shower?" Emma yelled out from the bedroom

"Uhhhh EMMA! That was a washing, what I am about to do is a beautifying process... You have much to learn young padawan."

"Did you know you are DRAMATIC about EVERYTHING?" she huffed at me

"Where do you think you got it kid" I muttered as I poured bath salts into the water.

I smiled.

When I was ready to leave Emma hugged me.

"How do I look?" I asked

"beautiful...as always" She smiled

My daughter is bossy sometimes, but even if I have to pull it out of her, the kid has good taste.

Beautiful.

There is a little girl at my school.

Her hair is ratty and the curls that reign her head are held tightly against her scalp. (In SOME places.) Her hair actually seems to be various lengths, as if she herself decided that parts of it needed a trim and others do not.
Sometimes her riot of curls holds a little nugget of a braid. One that you can barely see until she points it out with pride.
"See my braid?" She beams at whomever stands closest to her.
The teachers ooh and ahhh and nod and smile.

TODAY her hair was adorned with 7 hair clips. Haphazardly placed amongst the stray braid and the rest of the curls.

........There was a reason for their placement.I stared at them for 5 full minutes before shaking my head and walking in the opposite direction.

She is slim and the clothing that she wears is either too small or much too big. The patterns that she wears never match but there is something much better that she wears.

Confidence.

On Tuesday she waltzed up to me, proudly pointing at the sliver glitter bow that was held into her hair by a headband.  " See my bow Ms.Beanie?"
"I do! I do indeed see your bow."

I didn't know how anyone could miss it! It was a giant sparkly monster of a thing, one she probably dug out of her mothers closet from a box marked 'My 80's high school gear.'

"AND!....." She exclaimed as she pointed down to her feet.

"Annnnnnnnd......Silver sparkle shoes. Nice!" I exclaimed "Way to bring it all together!"

In between the silver bow and matching shoes there were pink striped pants and a black and white polkadot dress.

She proudly nodded and took my hand. "aren't I so beautiful?" she beamed up at me.

"You indeed are beautiful." I agreed. And she ran off to dig in the sand some more. Adding the gritty browness to her silver sparkle shoes.

5 minutes later she ran back to me in tears "Ms.Beanie!" was all she could gasp out. She fell against me and heaved great sobs against my shirt.

"What is wrong!? Only 5 minutes ago you were smiling!"

"That girl. She said I was ugly Ms. Beanie! She said I was SO UGLY!" And she threw herself against me once more.

Her heart was not broken. It was BROKEN.

I held her for a second and scanned the yard to see which little girl was guiltily looking at me and giving herself away.

What I saw was a yard full of very well dressed children. In TuTu's and matching outfits and knit sweaters. They have nice haircuts and new shoes and it was all covered by the same gritty sand that covered this child's old sparkle shoes.

I pulled her from my body and looked into her light blue eyes.
No. This was not a beautiful child.
She does not have a perfect bow mouth nor does she have a healthy round child body. Her skinny frame was held by my unskinny one and I smiled into her eyes.

"Do you know WHY you are so beautiful?" I asked her

"Why?" She blinked away tears and leaned closer to me

"Your shoes sparkle and that makes you happy. The bow in your hair makes you FEEL pretty. But what makes you beautiful...truly beautiful, is the fact that you Believe that you are."

"I do believe that I am! I KNOW I am."

I looked down at her and smiled "You remind me of someone." I said to her

"I do?!"

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Me."