2Loved2BUgly

So, I shaved my head. I look like Steve McQueen. Or a monk. Not a curl in sight. It’s very soft, though, and quite comforting to pet. But Scorn visited quickly. “You are too ugly to be loved,” she said. Fortunately my inner Pollyanna piped up. “No, babe. You are too loved to be ugly,” which made me laugh, and allowed me to go about my business. Why do I have to be attractive anyway? “Mount Tahoma doesn’t worry about being beautiful,” said an ex-girlfriend. “She just is.”

Slowly it’s changing for women, but I inherited a lot of sexist beliefs growing up. So I am absolutely thrilled that Kamala Harris is running for United States President. About time! How many other countries have female leaders? Fifteen last year, according to the Pew Research Center. I watched online when Ms. Harris was sworn in as Vice President, then went for a long-ass walk with tears of Joy. Powerful women rock.

A dockmate asked me to care for her feline recently, and it’s been wonderful. Not only do we play cat and (faux) mouse, we sit on the upper deck of her boat at sunset, and watch the world turn. Jazz Cat reminds me of beloved Frank, who adopted me in Kamilche years ago. Both are black and white and funny.

Below is a poem inspired by Frank. Does this make me a childless cat lady too? Maybe I’ll put that on my next boat card. When she wins the election.