I have never cared for her.

We'll just call her 'Perky.' Perky is one of those gals in the South that. . . well, puts on airs. Or as some would say, 'She's not pretty on the inside.' About 15 years ago when we worked together, she was that gal that was pretty, yes, but not near as pretty as she thought. The kind that pretended to be extra-Southern. Who talked about 'Daddy' a lot, and had plenty of mascara. The kind that things her mole is a beauty mark, instead of being something she should have taken off. The kind who thinks, 'He must be gay, he hasn't asked me out.'

She was pretty, yes, and Daddy paid for the hair, the nails, etc. Her boyfriend was a local good ol' boy, drove a big truck and was cute in that way that local boys often are, with Wolverine work boots. That sort. You either know what I'm talking about, or you don't.

The is the kind of couple that had the girlfriend trying to whisper into her cell phone that the guy she is going to the work convention with is gay, but eventually made up a lie so I would pull over on the side of the interstate so he could meet me.

I've tried to like her, but it's just hard.

Slip forward 12 years or so and a mutual friend is getting married. One of the brides maids tells me, 'Perky picked out our dresses, and she is the ONLY one who will look good in them.' In her defense, apparently the bride and the maids all took multiple bottles of wine with them to the dress shop and their purchase was unanimously approved through the haze of white wine. Sobriety some hours later showed them the error of their ways, but it was too late. The deed was done.

The wedding comes, and I'm looking down the aisle, and for each bridesmaid I thought, 'You should all drag Perky out back when this is over and stab her with your high heeled sandals.'

And then comes Perky. Unescorted, the matron of honor, walking as if she herself were the bride. You could tell she planned this, thought about this, perhaps even rehearsed her walk to the Spanish tune. And I am happy to say, truly happy, that Perky is finally, truly, on the outside, as pretty as she has always thought she was anyway. She has lost all her chubby fat, letting the satin dress to slide over her curvaceous body. Her legs were tone and looked sexy in the heels. Her bronze tan contrasted nicely with the burnt orange satin of the dress. Her hair was perfect, and perfectly highlighted for the summer. And the beauty mark is still in place.

And her husband? The local boy turned state trooper? His face looks haggard now. His crew cut looked more cheap than military. His white shirt appeared to be common variety broadcloth. And when he stood up, I saw the beginnings of a belly. When he sat near his bride at the reception, I overheard them arguing. 'I'm ready to go' with the emotion of it clearly on his face. Her reply 'Go whenever you want to' left no doubt of her sincerity.

Yes. Perky is as lovely now as she always thought she was anyway. And her husband is not. And though I probably moved ahead one row on the bus to hell for feeling this way ~ it truly makes me happy.