The Litmus Test

I thought I looked pretty good when I peered in the bedroom mirror. Sure, I wish the control top could have controlled a bit more. And wouldn't it be nice if my arms were a tidge more toned? But all in all, I thought I didn't look too bad.

Arthur said I looked nice. I thought it must be true because he kept grabbing at me. That's always nice for the ego.

I knew it was true, though, when I walked down the stairs and my five year old daughter drew her breath in and said, "Mommy, you look beautiful!" I have failed her litmus test in the past. She's like the Russian skating judge at the Olympics. Getting a 10 from her is an accomplishment.

So, off I went. Happily assured in the fact that I looked at least as good as Christmas Barbie.