All I could think of to say today is something that's very self involved. It made me feel good, though.

As long as I can remember, when it was important to be pretty, I was the smart one. In high school, in college. After a while, I let go of the fantasy of someone seeing me and thinking I was beautiful, wanting to get to know me. I realized I didn't have that allure.

Being smart, though, I knew I would always have that, even after beauty faded.

Yesterday, I got up, put my hair into pigtails, got dressed, and went about my day. Not sure why I did that, but it was going to be warm, and I wanted to go to the garden center to get some plants, and knew I'd be busy, wanted my hair out of the way and off my neck.

As I walked through, looking at the plants, to case everything, a man was looking at me so intently, he tripped over the orange cone they'd placed at the corners of the plant sections, so people wouldn't walk on the plants.

I giggled to myself. That's never happened before, at least not that I noticed. It made me feel powerful, attractive, strong and wonderful. The power of beauty, knowing one is beautiful, and that it impacts others around them is a heady thing.

I can see how the pretty girls let it rule them, seeming to let other pursuits fall by the wayside.

I know it's temporary and I didn't let it go to my head. Well, maybe just for a minute.