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Boys Are Prettier Than Girls


I’ve been told on a regular basis that I’m a spitting image of my father. Along with his overall appearance I inherited his seasonal allergies, his fondness for light beer and his weird looking feet. I have the correct amount of toes and they’re not webbed or anything but they definitely point in eight different directions and could probably double as a compass. Second toe to the right and straight on till morning! I suppose it’s better than being told that I look like the mailman who serviced our house in Port Washington, WI circa 1984 but I couldn’t help but think that one of us should be offended by this observation. Either my dad looks like a lady or I look like a 60-year-old dude with a mustache. Here I thought I was doing an okay job of keeping up on waxing my upper lip.

It would appear that my dad has no qualms about being “beautiful” however. Rinn, Rick and I spent my last day off cruising Tablerock Lake fishing for whatever has a hankering for crickets. The truth is I was simply along for the ride, quietly reading “Me Talk Pretty One Day” by David Sedaris while dodging stray casts so I didn’t meet the same fate as those crickets.

The two of them were discussing fishing spots and whatever else it is that goes into “catching a big one” when my dad looked over at me and said “may I take a moment to tell you how lovely you look today?” You can “awww” all you want but in typical-Rick fashion those words are usually followed by him reasoning that women wear scarves because all bags tie at the top. He is probably the catalyst for why people associate making bad jokes with being a dad; the correlation being the worse the joke the better the dad.

No attention was paid to my subsequent eye roll because Rinn spotted a cardinal in the trees along the shoreline and immediately started sharing facts he probably picked up from watching NatGeo. One of which was that “that’s a boy, the boys are prettier than the girls so the girls are camouflaged.” Rick, not one to miss out on an opportunity to display his wit, responds “you’re right Rinn, males are always prettier than the females, just look at me and your mom.” If what they say is true in if you keep making a face it will get stuck like that, my eyes could’ve easily gotten stuck in the back of my head that day.

Rinn laughs at his papa, his papa laughs at himself and I laugh at them both in farce. My dad shoots me a wink and quickly coaches Rinn in telling me “Mom, may I take a moment to tell you how beautiful you are today?”


And because us writers have to stick together; if you like my blog you'll love David Sedaris.


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