Honesty is the best policy

by Katie on May 8, 2013

Of the attributes my grandpa possesses, I’d say honesty and punctuality are two he clings to the most.

Which is not a bad thing. Assuming you have thick skin, anyway.

Because when I say “honesty” I mean the tell-it-like-it-is kind. The blunt, bold truth. So if that’s what you’re looking for, look the old man up. But if you’re in the market for a confidence boost, a rally for the ol’ self esteem, you might want to look in another direction.

Luckily for me, I grew up with it, have developed a pretty good self image as an adult (after overcoming a not-so-good one as a teen), and can, let’s say, “take it” if you will.

You see, my sister and I are the (now) proud owners of very large feet. At least she is a tall girl. I am just a hair above average at best. So the large feet? They don’t really fit. And are quite noticeable. And only grew one shoe size after the fourth grade. Which was before I hit my growth spurt. While we were growing up, my grandpa would tell us nearly every time we saw him, “You might be pretty tall if you didn’t have so much turned down on you.”

[Good thing for us, when we told our MeMe about these comments, she would say, “Don’t you worry about that. Those feet give you a good foundation. They’ll keep you steady.” Which, looking back, maybe wasn’t all that much better. But at the time, it made us feel a little better.]

My freshman year of college, I returned home to visit him once, and when I walked in his door, he exclaimed, “We’re gonna have to take you off the sugar or something!” And I was far, far away from that infamous Freshman Fifteen. At most, I had just “softened” a little from the fit, athletic high school girl days.

But apparently that wasn’t the last of his honesty.

This past week, I took Leyton to Texas to meet her family and friends there. My first evening home, Mason casually mentioned at the supper table that when he was visiting Grandpa, showing him pictures of Leyton from his phone, Ole Ted had told him that Leyton was, I quote:  much too pretty to look like me.

My dad promptly told Mason he did not need to repeat everything he hears from my grandpa.

But I just found it humorous. Maybe that’s what he was doing all that time; just helping “thicken” our skin so we could take the harsh world?

And maybe the man really is on to something. I mean, I do have a beautiful daughter. And she most certainly does not look like me.


Except for those feet anyway…


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