Song Of One Of The Girls by Dorothy Parker
I’m Aspasia and Hero, at least.
I’m Judith, and Jael, and Madame de Stael;
I’m Salome, moon of the East.
Here in my soul I am Sappho;
Lady Hamilton am I, as well.
In me Recamier vies with Kitty O’Shea,
With Dido, and Eve, and poor Nell.
I’m of the glamorous ladies
At whose beckoning history shook.
But you are a man, and see only my pan,
So I stay at home with a book.
I have two little girls in my family room tonight. By little girls, I mean 12 year olds with delusions of 16-year-old grandeur. They have been strutting around the house since 4:30 this afternoon with Apple products in hand and ear, talking too loud and tossing their hair. They have given each other make overs with real make-up (the blue eye shadow is DIVINE) and manicures. They have oohed and ahhed over Justin Beiber, Alex Pettyfer and Sam Claflin and now they are kicked back on the sofa in the family room and watching HGTV (!!!). They feel that they will be able to stay awake all night. I feel that I will not. I have no delusions of 16-year-old grandeur. My delusions run more along the lines of a night that doesn’t include snoring that wakes the spousal unit up, restless legs or a 3 am hot flash.