BEAUTY AND THE BEAUTY

She is 17, really 17 ½ but who’s counting? Catherine is. High school graduation is getting close. College boys call her. Every fellow graduate has the hots for her and Cathy knows it. Why? Why? What do I do? I don’t dress provocatively. My clothes fit nicely, never binding, never tight. My rear end doesn’t wiggle a lot when I walk. My breasts are not humongous and I always wear a bra. I’m supposed to be thrilled with all this attention, but I’m not. ‘Cathy, come into the kitchen. I have the names of 4 college freshmen who want to date you. Are you interested?’ ‘Thanks, Mom. You know I’m not. What am I supposed to do? None of the high school boys interest me. And I’m not making any blind dates, especially to frat parties.’

‘You opened the book, Darling. You asked and Mother will answer. This is what I would do and think you should too. Talk to a couple of freshman, even juniors, one at a time. Find out what kind of movies he likes, mysteries, wars, science fiction, foreign, sex. Even his voice is important. What interests does he have? What does he do? What courses are set for this year? Does he like opera? Mention your favorite artist, author. Criminey, girl, your not only lovely to look at, you are smart. Why am I giving you advice? Don’t answer that. I’ll tell you why. Because you know where you are going, have high aims, how to dress, how to study, but you don’t have a molecule of good common sense in your head. You’ll be at U of P in 3 months. What are you going to do? Be a female hermit? Listen to me. ‘

Wake up, Honey–smell the Old Spice. Men are worth a sniff.

She is really 15 but has the IQ of a 12 year old, maybe 11, possibly 13 at times, who knows? Florence is in the 9th grade and is going on to high school in the fall. She is aware that she will be the oldest in the classes, except for the teachers. Why? Why? Why am I different? Mother tells me I am as pretty as a tulip rising from its winter’s nap. I have gorgeous long blond hair that gets more blond every summer. My breasts are going to be bigger than any of the girls. They may laugh at me or be jealous. I’m going to be taller than most of the boys. I tell myself I don’t care at all but I do. ‘Mother, I hear the whispers. She’s slow. Am I really?’ ‘ Darling, maybe, but you are much smarter than those who call you slow. They aren’t nice and you are, sometimes too nice. The 13 year old kids may know bigger words than you know. Some may be able to speak some Spanish or French, but are too dumb to try to understand people like you. You are fighting your way all the time trying to do better. You have a lovely voice, have performed in public. Have they? You will be singing at the high school graduation and they can’t even go if they have a sister or brother there.’

‘Mother, help me. Do I have to stay in school? I’m old enough to drop out.’ ‘What are you saying, Darling? You are absolutely able to do the school work ahead of you. Dad and I will get a tutor if you need one. What do you want to do, stay home, get a part time job at Walmart? No Daughter. You’ll see, you are going to be fine. You have stored a lot in your mind that the younger kids haven’t been taught yet. This year may be easier than you think. Come on now, Florence, look in the mirror. Look deep and see the beautiful young woman I see. She’s getting her feet wet and has a huge beach towel in her hand, ready to wipe off the sand and little shells that may make those feet bleed a little.

You are my baby girl, growing into a woman who happens to have a prideful mother.’