Confession #2

I had a friend who had very rich grandparents as I was growing up. It seemed like ever Sunday my friend would show up in a new "poofy dress," their gift to her. They were the princess kind of dresses that swirled deliciously as one twirled and made one feel quite important since it took two chairs instead of one to contain the enormity of ruffles. The injustice of it all was that she always had ruffly socks to match. Attired in my simple jumpers my little heart longed for a poofy dress so that I, too, could keep the world at distance with all my lace. I would pray at night that a poofy dress would appear in the living room. One day I prayed over and over. I'd go into the room I shared with my two brothers and kneel down and plead for a poofy dress then I'd run into the next room to see if it had arrived. It didn't. I'm happy to report that the experience did not shake my faith in a higher power. I simply learned that one doesn't pray for poofy dresses. By the time I was eight I did obtain a poofy dress that was lovely and twirly and every good thing. It was blue. It had puff sleeves. In relating this tale I'm confessing that ever since I was young I have been vain and covetous. Maybe someday I'll grow out of it.