When I Grow Up I Want to Be Cute

Last night on a late caffeine run, my cousin commented on why people like me. Not because I’m funny, but because I’m cute funny…as in people laugh at me when I do ridiculous things. It was this and the long venture out to Jordan Landing for a midnight screening of The Dark Knight that I remembered my art class and my art teacher’s finely sculpted shoulders. The only other time I’ve been to Jordan Landing was the date I had with said teacher.

A few years ago in protest to an academic curriculum I took a beginners drawing class. Good thing too, my teacher needed me. He was a grad student and this was his first class. He tried to scare half of us away on the first day. Luckily he’d also done a short demonstration, and captivated by those shoulders I decided to remain enrolled.

My friendships in the class blossomed. And in an odd way. Somehow I ended up going out on dates with five of the boys in that class, instructor included and one girl. OK, the girl wasn’t a date but it could’ve been and she made me crash a frat party. One boy even secured me a place on a house boat for a week long party at Lake Mead. Regretfully I passed. But the best friend I made in the class was the middle-aged woman from Park City. I think she only talked to me and our teacher. I was a social butterfly so it’s amazing that I was able to keep up with my drawings.

Not really since my teacher did most of mine for me. After giving us our class assignments, he would walk around and help us individually. For me that meant a revised explanation (Somehow I was the only one in class that actually tried to do what he told us to and he never told us the correct way. In fact I corrected his math and teaching methods a few times, but still couldn’t draw a box). By the end of the semester, my teacher felt like my drawing had progressed. He even complimented one area he found particularly beautiful. As he pointed at it and praised my work, I hung my head in shame.

“No,” I cried, “that’s the part you drew for me not quite two hours ago.”

As the entire class found me entertaining all eyes and ears gravitated my way. My art professor looked at me and laughed nervously. Luckily PC Lady picked up the ball and offered some words of comfort.

Holding my hand she announced loudly, “It’s ok if you can’t draw honey. You’re one of the cutest girls in the class. You’ve got beautiful eyes and a wonderful smile. And I’ve never seen them, but I bet you’ve got great legs too!”

I painfully shared my portfolio on our final day of class, and just to be safe I went heavy on the eyeliner and short with the hem.