"Nice" it forward..

I was crossing the parking lot of the Brentwood publix the other day when a woman pulled up in a gold convertible (okay... it was shimmery tan. that's gold enough, right? not the James Brown coffin gold, but the we-could-totally-see-this-in-our-dad's-driveway-after-he-retires gold.).

She told me I looked cute. I did my little grin/head tilt/one shoulder shrug and said thanks. She said, "No, really. You do. I remember back when it was me, I always wondered if I looked cute or if I looked fat. Know that you do look cute."

I suppressed the urge to waddle-hop into her car and kiss her, and instead resolved to someday BE the woman in the shimmering convertible... making young pregnant girls in giant yellow dresses feel insanely good about themselves for a few glowing minutes.