I admit it, I say it. A LOT.

Before I can stop myself, the ‘c’ word will fall out of my mouth and into casual conversation. I’ve called Miss Fabulous the ‘c’ word. I’ve called the kids I teach the ‘c’ word. My old dog, my favourite shoes, even my grandmother have all been called the ‘c’ word. In fact, just today I yelled it down the hallway to my boss. It would appear that I like giving the word out, but I’ve discovered I hate being called it by others. The ‘c’ word I’m referring to? Cute, of course. For some reason the word ‘cute’ rolls off my tongue and gets attached to many things in my life like a piece of velcro you can’t shake off.

It’s always been the adjective people use to describe me. I suppose it’s the blond hair, or the fact that I laugh a lot. Maybe it’s because I have the hobbit gene and am short. Maybe it’s because I get excited easily or cry during Saturn car commercials. I don’t know. I do know however, that I’d rather be called a million other things than cute.

I don’t strive to be called ’sexy’. It seems like a lot of work. Perhaps it’s not fair of my brain, but when I hear the word, the first thing I think of is fishnets, a red sparkly dress made out of lycra and thigh high stilettos. And long red hair. Basically, Jessica Rabbit with a little less Botox. When I think ’sexy’ I just think I would be too tired to wear those shoes all day and keeping my hair red hot flaming red would take serious upkeep. Maybe I’m less cute and more lazy?

Sometimes I get ‘nerdy’ and it fits. Unlike those who object to it, (they are most likely to be wearing fishnets I’ve noticed), I don’t mind it. I read a lot. I get irrationally angry when people display ignorance about war or politics. I have been known to get really happy over a sweater vest. My closet, bookcase and shoe collection are color coordinated, and I take great pleasure when others notice this. Recently, I’ve found myself squealing when I watch a new Harry Potter preview. See? Nerdy fits.

I’ve gotten ‘funny’ before and that one I like. Who doesn’t relish the idea of feeling that what you say is worth a laugh? “Complicated” has been whispered, which is understandable, but not always appreciated. Though it seems we live in a world where ‘complicated = interesting’, I would prefer to be something different. Complex, perhaps, that seems like complicated’s nicer cousin. Complicated reminds of people torn between huge life choices and prone to maniac cleaning spells induced by rage. And I assure you, I vacuum quite irregularly.

I started thinking about this on Saturday when a nice couple (Channel and Dan), couldn’t find a table at the St. Patricks party we were at and joined ours. They seemed a bit uncomfortable at having to sit at a table of 8 girls (1 of which who was standing on a booth doing an air guitar with part of her body I’m too lady like to describe right now), so I kept asking them questions. They told me how they met, how they fell in love and the whole story was just so well… cute. I might have clapped my hands but then Dan started raving about how ‘cute’ I was, and the feeling passed quickly.

Maybe I don’t like it because it’s the term I get the most. Or because it seems like an adjective that’s not very specific. It’s like ‘good’ or ‘great’. It doesn’t seem like it’s based on anything. I mean, puppies are cute. One could argue that at times, Colin Powell has shown cuteness. I would just like another word.

But I suppose when the time came, when the request tumbled out of my mouth, whoever had called me ‘cute’ would just feel that I deserved the term that much more. If my grandma threw her hands on her hips when I stuck the ‘cute’ term on her, and told me that being called ‘cute’ was silly and wanted another word, well, chances are she would seem that much cuter. Or she would seem ridiculous.

And given the choice between ridiculous and cute, I would take cute.