In the wake of recent allegations of cuteness, I am compelled to make whatever autobiographical disclosures it will take to prove the contrary. Hence the following, with apologies for more than the usual dollop of self-preoccupation.
1. I have enormous feet. Not "aw, cute puppy, feet too big for tiny body" sized feet. No. We're talking clydesdalesque, plus toes.
2. I am nearly twenty-nine years old. I accept that in the scheme of possible human ages, this is youngish, but it is, nonetheless, well removed from the cuteness zone. I have been fully grown for some years now.
3. I can say "Throw yourself to the crows" in Classical Greek. This is an extremely nasty idiom in Classical Greek speaking circles. If this were ancient Athens, I'd be cute in the sense that Scylla and Charybdis are cute.
4. I have, in my time, hosted a small selection of parasites and viruses. No need to elaborate. To the best of my knowledge, they've all cleared out.
5. Relatedly, I am considerably more interested in slugs and snails and puppy dogs' tails (attached) than sugar and spice and all things nice. Not to say that I'm averse to a dusting of nutmeg on my pumpkin soup.
6. I am an aunt. Aunts: dashing, yes; rakish, yes; cute, no.
7. Grammar is my friend. Try calling someone cute while she's telling you about the articular infinitive.
8. I am more or less militant in my defence of bodily unruliness, the right to sprout, secrete, stretch and sag, or not, without shame.
9. I dig a mean hole.
10. I can put back nearly 200 grams of muesli in a single breakfast.
11. I have spare ankles, an extra one on each foot. The Bactrian camels of the ankle world. I'll post a photograph sometime, perhaps alongside my mother's Siamese toes.
12. I do not have floppy ears.
13. Or paws.
14. Or whiskers.
15. Nor do I drool endearingly in my sleep.
16. I have just checked, and my feet are 26 cm long, including toes.