For years, I've done battle with the word cute. It seems like a polite thing people say when you are not attractive, or they don't take you seriously. It is often based on size and not personality or style. Try as I may, cute describes my appearance and most of what I say, do, or own. I've been told my house is cute (I guess the lavender and light green interior paint contribute to this problem). My clothes are cute. (I still attribute this to size.) My mannerisms are cute.(That pinky thing when I eat or drink is an involuntary action...REALLY!) You get the picture.
For the past two years, I have tried to reinvent myself. I have discovered my version of glamorous is clownish. (Eyeshadow is tricky.)My powerful is stressful and far too angry. (No more committee or boards. The politics suck.) And, my sexy is absolutely disasterous! It was a lot of work and only made me tired and frazzeled. (Can I blame the lousy cooking on the time I spent trying to be sexy? Sorry if I scared you D. ;)
A little over a month into being 46 years old, I look in the mirror and guess what I
cute /kyut/ –adjective
1. attractive, esp. in a dainty way; pleasingly pretty: a cute child; a cute little apartment.
2. affectedly or mincingly pretty or clever; precious
3. mentally keen; clever; shrewd.
I've learned that people like cute. It's non-threatening. People who get close to cute people are there because of who we are not what they can get. YEA CUTE!!!
(Thanks TravlinOma for inspiring me to write about this recent discovery.)