PIGGY TAILS

This morning, I decided to go to one of my favorite book houses/coffee bars. They were having live jazz, and I wanted to read, have some hot tea, and enjoy the jazz. I pulled on a pair of jeans, a boho kinda shirt, some flip-flops, and put my hair into some messy pig tails.

Yes, I'm 34 years old. Yes, I realize this sort of get up is best worn by a college co-ed, but shut up! I'm trying desperately to stop the hands of time. The one brilliant thing handed down to me via my DNA is this amazing youthful-looking gene, and darn it! I'm milkin' it for all it's worth!

So, after I'd absorbed as much culture as one chick can on a Saturday morning, I headed to Target. I'm wandering aimlessly through the clothing department, when a woman behind me says, "Excuse me."

I turn around, thinking she's trying to get past me.

"My daughter just wants me to tell you that she loves your pig tails."

The little girl, no more than 5 or 6, is hanging back, chewing a finger (very popular thing to do among the kindergarten/first grade set).

I smile and say, "Thanks!"

"Oh, I told her she should come to you and tell you, but she's shy. She just kept telling me how pretty you are in your pig tails."

Well, now she's got me hooked! I looked down at the little girl and say, "You've made my entire day! Thank you so much!"

She smiles and says, "You like piggy tails?"

"Yes, I do!"

She gasps. "SO DO I!!! SO DOES MY MOMMA!!!"

So, the look is a hit ... at least for the 6 year olds. Now ... if I could just get CUTE GYM TEACHER to think so ...

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