Writing In Bed

I Want To Be Cute

I wish I was cute. I know that I’m cute in the face region, but I mean that I want to be cute on the inside.

I want to care about puppies.

I want to look good in vintage dresses and bangs, but my forehead is too small and my body is configured for jeans and hoodies.

I want to squeal whenever I see a cute animal video and I want to feel feelings whenever I see a picture of Ryan Gosling, but my heart doesn’t even skip a beat even though my eyes know I’m looking at someone delicious.

I want to go nuts over cupcakes and other pastries and I want to know what it’s like to wake up in a room that smells like scented candles.

Instead, I’ve got a Ralph Steadman Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas poster and a mash up of the Mona Lisa and Van Gogh’s Starry Night while my cat snoozes on my side of the bed.

I’ve given the cute thing a shot by seeing if I can get into something. You know how some of your coworkers have a “thing”, and you immediately know what that thing is when you look at their desks and there’s a lot of it everywhere? For example, my friend Linda has a Hello Kitty museum at hers. Our friend Letty has a few Betty Boop dolls. I barely eked by with a Beanie Baby Snoopy and Charlie Brown, but not enough to brand myself in the office.

What’s my thing gonna be? I used to love koalas, and while I don’t love them any less, you don’t see them everywhere, either. I tried owls, as well, but I forget about them too quickly.

Coffee? I suppose I can set my computer’s desktop wallpaper to a hot cup of joe to replace my picture of Zak Bagans. But, it’s ZAK BAGANS. I can’t!

I have also tried smiling more so that I can give off less of a Wednesday Addams vibe. After thorough research, however, I have determined that she is, in fact, my spirit animal, which might also explain why I’ve always had a slight fascination with that Cosmic Debris character Emily the Strange. I mean, it got to the point where I tattooed one of her cats on my hip. I’m not an idiot, I just like tattoos of things I like to look at. Wait, can you be cute with tattoos like that? Probably, right? It’s a cat! Cute girls love cats.

Also, being cute means that men feel more comfortable around you because you don’t give them the sense that you can dropkick them at any moment during a date. You can’t cause any internal bleeding if say, you’re wearing flats versus stilettos. I’m aware that I am quite aggressive, which might be why men sort of back away slowly when they sense that my ovaries are preparing to release an egg into the wild. And instead of a cute giggle, I have a vulgar laugh. It’s loud and menacing, but I like to think it celebrates whatever has happened during a comedic moment.

I want to be cute, I really do, but I’m not built to be so gentle and kind as a default setting. I come at things with the instinct to overcome discomforts and awkward moments. I leave the house in sneakers so I can walk over rocks without wincing. I wear jeans everyday so cold air doesn’t crawl up my crotch and make me shudder. I’m sure my mother wants to be able to say, “This dainty thing here is my daughter and look how adorable she is!” instead of, “This is my daughter and she never wears things that would look nice on her. She never listens to me. God, I hate your Converse shoes.”

Alright, I’ll try the bangs. And if this fails, they grow back right away, right?

Girl in dress image via ShutterShock

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