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.
14 comments:
Well, my feet are 22cm long, so I'm not much behind you.
Of course it is your prerogative to be whatever you choose to be and nothing you don't, but how do you feel about "endearing"?
Oh, come now Doctor Lexicon, you're much too harsh on yourself, surely? Especially your feet: I'm sure you're very attached to them. Indeed, if you weren't very attached to them, how could you walk? You can't refute logic. And, as Handel* said,
How beautiful are thy feet,
Thy feet,
Thy feet,
That preach the gospel of peace.
How beau-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-tiful are thy feet,
Thy feet,
thy feet,
thy feet,
thy feet,
(Ipso fact ad nauseum)
*The Bible actually, but let's not get hung up on 'context'.
Karen, 22 cm ain't got NOTHING on 26 cm. Those extra 4 cm make a big difference in shoe size. We're talking 10, or 10 and a half, in gels' shoes.
Tim, thank you, but you'll note George Frideric's surname is not Footel.
N.B. the fact that I think my feet (a) enormous and (b) evidence of my uncuteness does not mean I dislike them. Nay. At the risk of sounding like the narcissist I am, I may as well confess that I find my long toes positively beautiful. My feet are pre-Raphaelite, unlike any of the rest of me.
N.B.B. "endearing" would be an honour.
If it's only your toes that are pre-Raphaelite, is the rest of you post-Raphaelite? That would mean that you occupy different time zones: that you are, in effect, a human time machine.
I should have mentioned, Eva Ibbotson has written a delightful novel called 'Island of the Aunts', and at some point during the first chapter - wherein you are confronted with the aunts alone on an island - you realise that, paradoxically, these aunts may indeed be existing without a niece or nephew. (Indeed, by the end of the second chapter, they have kidnapped a niece and nephew for themselves.)
The world of aunts is indeed wide and wonderful!
And then there's Graham Greene's 'Travels With My Aunt', and Paddy White's 'The Aunt's Story'. I will add Ibbotson's aunt book to my literary aunt library.
Apart from my pre-Raphaelite toes, the rest of me - as Karen once so flatteringly suggested - is Bloomsbury. And that's the story I'm sticking to.
There goes my do the 'eight random things' meme, please.
I'm very interested in the ancient greek, very handy to throw around in bogan-ville.
17. You are a lawn mowing champion
Hope all is well Lexi.
Jason
xxx
I don't like to blow my own trumpet, but that is absolutely true, Jasey. I'm a dab hand with a lawn mower, and you don't get much less cute than two-stroke and petrol. Well-hopings right back at you, mister. Lovely of you to drop by. x
My sister went to uni with a fellow who cut off three toes lawn-mowing and had to wear specially made shoes ever after.
I am 8 1/2-9, so 4cm are significant, but women's shoes are so awful anyway. Everything seems to be based around a 7. I went through a period of only wearing slippers- I had my home slippers and my going-out slippers. I'm thinking about doing it again, but it's so hard to find the sort of slippers people don't recognise as slippers.
I think God took that extra 4cm and she added it to my nose. I am tremendously attached to my big, Roman nose. I'm pleased that the Bloomsbury remark went down well. I've often thought that, but was not familiar enough to proffer it. I would like to look Bloomsbury too, but I get called "Pre-Raphaelite" instead, which I always think is code for something else: "Do birds nest in your hair?" or "My, what a fine Roman nose!", for instance. I deeply regret not paying more attention to your feet when I had the opportunity, as I am very keen to know what Pre-Raphaelite feet might look like.
You do look Pre-Raphaelite, it's true! It's your masses of beautiful hair, and your colour. You glow. And the shape of your face. I've still got the feet, though. I'll put up a photo sometime, I promise.
Um, wasn't fishing for that, but thanks! You made me blush. Needless to say, the cheque's in the mail.
This one's on the house.
lawks a mercy! i've got extra ankles too! i knew there was something unspoken and unspeakable bringing us together.
when i was a wee lass, a Big Boy of my family's acquaintance used to tease the Little Girls by telling us we were cute and then proceeding to explain that cute meant ugly but interesting. so there you go.
humid love to you extra ankles fro Yangon, xxx
Oh, WOW! I never noticed your ankles, Splatri. C'est brilloo. This feels just like when I caught chicken pox from the cleverest kid in class. I'm inordinately proud to share a superfluity of ankles with such a fine comrade as yerself.
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