Sa-weet!

It wasn't the hooker-tight skirt or the tube top, both three sizes too small for you that I noticed first. Nor was it the recent post-pregnancy belly that neither article of clothing could hide, or the ankle-high Uggs you were wearing on this 80 degree, humid day.

Nope, the first thing I noticed about your classy self as you were standing at the bus stop was the big wad of chew you spit into the street as I drove by.

I blame Cinderella...

While I was sitting with the niece tonight, watching Disney's Cinderella, it hit me like a bolt of lightening who is to blame for the irrational need that most women have to find Prince Charming and that all-important perfect pair of shoes. Thanks, Walt, for making me want the impossible and unattainable. But my niece is 4, so I kept my thoughts to myself. At least let her think that happy endings (and not the cheesy, sordid kind you have to pay for in a back room) are possible. At least for now.