Almost as Pretty

So, here is some guest writing from Jenny, the other half of my longest friendship.  Jenny is darling– beautiful and whip smart, creative and concerned, funny and thoughtful.  Love her.  Seriously, she is like another sister for me.  She appears a few times in the book (in one scene that totally still cracks me up and another that still breaks my heart), and she graciously allowed me to use her real name in it.  Anyway, she sent me this e-mail on Friday after a recent visit to her mother’s childhood hometown.  I was floored– not just by what happened but also by how Jenny so brilliantly handled it.  My girl is the definition of a Steel Magnolia– charming, graceful, and strong.     

Almost as Pretty: 

I heard the words that I had known all along, softened by the soothing cadence and sugary accent of a middle-aged man and old friend of my mom.  Meaning no harm at all, but so true that I was suddenly hyper-aware of my short, mousy brown hair that would never be long, thick, or blonde…the fact that I was one important inch shorter that would forever link me to the petite department…that my skin was still showing signs of the inequities of youth that spotted it…and that I really should lose those five pounds that had settled right below my belly button.  I involuntarily sucked in.

“Yes, she is almost as pretty as her mother used to be!” someone agreed on the wrap-around front porch of the aging white mansion on Main Street of York, SC.

“Thank you!” I said, smiling sweetly.