“I do! I do!” my daughter’s ponies clamored.
“Only the beautifulest pony will be allowed to marry the prince!”
He and my daughter lined them up and discussed the merits of each.
This one was a nice shade of pink.
That one had nice hair.
The clencher was the one with the long eyelashes. She got to marry the prince and there was much celebration throughout the kingdom.
Who taught them this kind of judgement? I have never remarked about eyelashes. Or have I? Hair? Maybe. Talk about beauty? Yep. Quite a bit.
When my daughter was a toddler a physician friend looked at a picture that I took of her and said, “Ooooh. She has a bit of frontal bossing doesn’t she? Don’t worry. Maybe she will grow out of it.” I just about clawed her eyes out. Instead I…
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