I was chatting with Starbuck the other day and, at one point (and appropriate to the conversation, not crazily out of thin air) she announced I REFUSE TO BE CUTE!
Years ago, Nemeria was in a play and she wrote me about her character: I'm going for aloofly evil, but knowing me, it's probably coming off as cute.
My own self-identity starts with "I'm a Muppet..." Baby sloths are the only things cuter than Muppets.
*deep deep sigh*
Mind you, all three of us can be other things. Sexy. Mysterious. Sophisticated. Alluring. Bad ass. And yes, even aloofly evil if the occasion calls for it. But there's no denying the cute is always there, lurking, waiting to come back out.
Back when I lived in Worcester, I had a collection of floor length...boudoir gowns...I suppose you could call them. Satiny, flowing things that certainly aren't pajamas. They puddled around my feet, and trailed out behind me when I walked. They weren't cute. For various reasons, I don't have many (any?) of them any longer.
Knowing I missed them, Lithus bought me a gown and robe for my birthday this year. It is breathtaking. My favorite ever, and not just because he got it for me. It's just that beautiful, that flowing, that puddly, that elegant.
The other night, I had gotten out of my bath and slipped into it, He stopped me and said "you know what's cute about this gown?"
I narrowed my eyes at him. "Absolutely nothing..."
He continued on, a little hesitant. "This little bow right here..."
And dammit, he was right. It's a cute little bow. HOWEVER! We decided it isn't "cute." It's delightfully unexpected for the gown. A touch of whimsy in an otherwise sophisticated setting. My Lithus is a smart man.
Those are Pobble Thoughts. That and a buck fifty will get you coffee.
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