Last winter I worked at the Dickens Christmas Fair in San Francisco. One of the clothing booths hired me to sell for them. And one of the perks of the job was that I was forced (oh woe!) to wear these gorgeous, exotic, beautifully made clothes that would make Mata Hari salivate.

So there I was one day working the booth in a gorgeous crushed velvet gown with a not-crushed velvet coat over the top, and a couple fabulous hand-dyed scarves containing my hair. I looked like a silent film Vamp like Theda Bara. It was awesome.

I suddenly found myself face to face with three tall, slender, blondes any of whom could have been a high fashion model in a heartbeat if she chose. Just as I was about to ask if there was anything they’d like to try on, one of them turned to the other two and said ‘I wish we could wear these clothes like she can’ and pointed at me!

I’m five-foot-two in my stockinged feet, I was wearing a size twenty, I’m in my mid-forties, my hair is a bit thin these days, and my teeth are in lousy shape…and this tall, thin, gorgeous blonde was jealous of my looks!

Even more amazingly, the other two nodded mournfully in agreement and all three slumped their way out of the booth.

As much as I’m thrilled they thought I looked that great, I was horrified that they thought so little of themselves that they wouldn’t even try anything on. They would have looked magnificent.

I’m going to see if I can work that booth again this winter.

And once, after explaining that I wouldn’t be going home with him, I told a guy in a bar what I did for a living and he said, “Well, you’re one sexy librarian.”

And just the other day, two little 2nd grade twin girls told me that they loved my “new” hair – it’s super curly.

At the age of 18 at college in a city I didn’t know with hardly any friends and after a very difficult break-up I landed myself in a mental hospital for a few days. An older gentleman who was there for having Vietnam flashbacks said, in a totally no-creepy way, that I must be the most beautiful girl on this campus with my red hair and big brown eyes, (the campus where I felt like the most ugly and most fat,) that I looked exactly like his wife when she was my age. He also told me later what I repeat to myself as a mantra from time to time, “no boy is worth all that.” simple but I swear he was my guardian angel during that time period.

my senior year in college, after having been well adjusted and even quite happy I wrote a blog on how miserable my body was, how much I hated not being a skinny Vandy Girl and even though I made fun I wished I could walk into the the gym and merely glance at the equipment and then proceed to be completely filled with four pieces of lettuce for lunch, that I longed for nothing but a cut up denim mini-skirt. One of best girl friends at college replied to my post saying that she was completely offended by this entire notion because I was the girl that she looked and completely believed that one can be gorgeous, sexy, stylish, seductive, and beautiful at any size. that is my favorite compliment of all time. all vandy girl pipe dreams faded in the wind from whence they came. and then i’m sure it was time for tequila body shots or something.