Aww, Emmett. What a good bro.

Matilda is gorgeous! With that gently waving hair, and her golden skin! Tell her Lilly thinks she's beautiful, silly boo.

Lilly... is so mired in her Tomboy Pride that she doesn't actually THINK about her looks. She's mostly upset at being so tiny, and her meltdowns wind up sounding like she's trying to reenact Braveheart.

Let's just say, if I never hear the word FREEDOM! shouted in my face again, it will be too soon.

(But, of course, Lilly is also the child who got a pixie cut so she'd look more like a lemming, and who spends half the time these days insisting that she's Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes.)

the child who got a pixie cut so she'd look more like a lemming

... that's fascinating! Where did that come from? I could see getting a pixie to look more like Emma Watson, but a lemming?

the child who got a pixie cut so she'd look more like a lemming

That IS fascinating.

I still don't quite understand why my mother didn't tell me I was ugly and odd...

I am STILL agitated from my meeting with theatre boss. THIS is why I avoid coming to him with my problems-- he makes everything worse, and ends up stressing me out!

I wish we didn't care so damn much about what we look like. Mostly that's a female "we".

Care about it, sure. But THIS much? It's entirely too significant.

(But, of course, Lilly is also the child who got a pixie cut so she'd look more like a lemming, and who spends half the time these days insisting that she's Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes.)

Ha! Matilda's been lobbying for a bob to surprise Lilly the next time she goes up. But I think Matilda will be the surprised one.

My mother told me I was ugly. It turned out fine. Having an object model in "your looks don't matter" suited my personality perfectly.

No one ever needed to tell me I was odd, and no one tried to tell me odd was bad until it was way too late for me to parse it. My parents were not, for a childish sensibility, concerned with fitting in. However, as an adult, I get where they're incredibly bougie and external-standard-bound.

I was petite and blonde and was told I was pretty all the time when I was little, so I never really noticed it. I pretty much thought EVERYONE was pretty so it didn't seem special or anything--just the normal state of being for a kid. Once I hit puberty and pudged out and got awkward, I actually looked at myself in comparison to others and felt like a hideous monster, which, honestly, I kinda still do.

Grace is just Grace. She's always going to be a freak relative to other kids. And you know what? People love her still. I mean other kids still stare and don't know what to do with her, but the kids at her school treat her like a rockstar. Andy, this adorable little boy who is the smarty in the class, rolls down the window, and yells her name each morning, basically falling out of the car. Another little guy, Niko, loves her and makes sure she has space. Fernando always brings a stool when they work in the kitchen. Isabella plays ball with her outside.

They are still young which is why we like the school and hope to stay here until middle because these kids right now protect her.

My lunch, which the dog still did not get any of: shrimp and tasso pasta. Next up: second viewing of Iron Man 3.

And most of the results from my mother's surgery are back, confirming the earlier tests. No spread, no lymph node involvement.