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PETITE BLONDE WORRIES THAT SHE'S SELLING HERSELF SHORT
DEAR ABBY: I have been dating the same guy for a little over a year. We get along well, laugh a lot, have the same outlook, similar goals. He says I'm his best friend.
My problem? I'm not his "type." I'm a petite blonde. He prefers chunkier women with dark hair. He says if there was one thing he could change about me, it would be for me to gain about 20 pounds. (I'm 5 feet tall and weigh 105.)
He has become "confused" a few times during the relationship, and the last time he said he needed to decide which was more important, someone he's connected with or someone who is his type. The sex is good but not earth-shattering, because my physical attributes don't do it for him. He doesn't want to rip off my clothes each time he sees me, and I thrive on that kind of lust.
He keeps coming back, and I feel like a jerk for allowing him to stay each time. I love him, but I'm unclear whether I'm selling myself short and if I deserve someone who loves me the way I am. I'm afraid if he stays with me, eventually he will want his type and leave. He's 37; I'm 33. What should I do? -- BETWIXT AND BETWEEN IN NEW JERSEY
DEAR B AND B: Loving him isn't enough. Not once in your letter did you indicate that he says HE loves YOU. You say he's critical of your appearance and strays when the spirit moves him. You are indeed selling yourself short. For a lifetime partner, you deserve better.
DEAR ABBY: Your "pennies from heaven" stories have been delightful. I have one that does not involve money, but the result was just as heartwarming.
The year was 1945. I was a member of General Patton's army, fighting our way across Europe. Infantry combat is pure hell, so when there was a rare lull in the fighting, an orchestra from our division band was brought in to cheer us up. In a wooded glade somewhere in France, they played all the favorites of the day, and we were reminded again of what we were fighting for.
A soldier with a clear, sweet voice began singing "Pennies From Heaven." However, it wasn't the familiar version. These satirical lyrics told the story of a GI coming home to his wife after serving overseas, and being met by his beloved holding a brand-new baby girl named "Penny."
The refrain of that song I'll never forget. "Every time he asked, she'd say, 'Penny's from heaven.'" There were many verses, and the soldier sang each one with a straight face. At another time under different circumstances, we probably would have found the song mildly amusing. That day it was the funniest song my buddies and I had ever heard. No money changed hands that day, but the laughter was a gift from God at a time when we had very little to laugh about. -- WALLACE HARMON, DALLAS
DEAR WALLACE: No amount of money could equal the enjoyment you fighting men got from the slightly naughty version of "Pennies From Heaven."
Laughter is a great unifier. People who laugh together become one, if only for a little while.
Dear Abby is written by Pauline Phillips and daughter Jeanne Phillips.
DEAR ABBY: The letter from "Still Kicking Myself in Frazier Park, Calif.," who walked away from a possible romance, prompts my letter. Months after a love affair experience that began in church with the opening hymn and ended 45 minutes later, I, too, am still "kicking myself."
Last spring, I entered the cathedral where I regularly attend 10:30 Mass. Because I was late, the middle section where I usually sit was full. I quickly slid into an empty pew toward the front. As I did, I noticed an attractive dark-haired man seated behind me.
The organist played the first note. I opened my mouth to sing and then stopped to listen to the rich tenor directly behind me. Encouraged by the strength and beauty of his voice, I joined in, assuming his phrasing would cover my mistakes. Instead of being overshadowed, his voice complemented mine. We began to sing unscored harmony as though we had practiced together for years. Our voices flowed in concert with the organist. Time stopped for me while we sang together throughout the entire Mass. With each successive hymn and response, we were a team singing duets.
I turned to shake his hand during the traditional kiss of peace. He warmly held mine in both of his, and his shining hazel eyes looked directly into mine. Smiling back, I wanted to speak, but I was dumbfounded. What I felt was so unexpected and powerful that I suddenly became shy. What could I say? God had arranged a perfect setting, and I could only lower my eyes.
Aware of him behind me in the communion line, I resolved to say something -- anything -- to him before leaving church. At least I could comment on his remarkable voice. However, after Mass he disappeared and has never returned. Perhaps he was in town on business, which makes another meeting unlikely. Or he may have been merely grateful for the opportunity to sing. Could there have been more to the day? My heart says yes -- but there is no way to know. -- WITH A SONG IN MY HEART IN SAN DIEGO
DEAR SONG IN MY HEART: Since there is no way to know whether or not there could have been more to the day, comfort yourself in the knowledge that for a few moments, you made beautiful music as one, and what you created together was your offering to God.
DEAR ABBY: During the past year, I have become good friends with a lady I'll call Ivy. I am a 36-year-old single woman; Ivy is 53 and divorced. We enjoy each other's company and she's been a wonderful friend.
Ivy is Jewish; I am Catholic. The difference in our faiths doesn't matter, because I believe that most religions are on the right path. However, I am unsure about how to handle our religious differences during the Christmas holidays.
Gift-giving is supposed to inspire feelings of warmth and happiness, and she has often said that when it comes to Christmas, she has lived the holiday vicariously through others. Naturally, I want to get her a gift, but is it the right thing to do? -- GENTLE GENTILE
DEAR G.G.: By all means present your friend with a gift -- for Hanukkah. Then invite her to share part of your Christmas celebration with you. Developing a close friendship with someone of a different faith can be enlightening for both of you.
Dear Abby is written by Pauline Phillips and daughter Jeanne Phillips.
To order "How to Write Letters for All Occasions," send a business-sized, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds) to: Dear Abby -- Letter Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included in the price.)
SISTERS' CONTRASTING LIVES ARE TESTAMENT TO SMOKING'S EFFECT
DEAR ABBY: I will soon be 81. My daughters are nurses. They would like to create an anti-smoking poster to hang in every junior and senior high school in the country.
On one side would be a photograph of me on a ladder, painting my house. On the other side would be a picture of my oldest sister, who is 90, boarding a plane in Texas to visit friends and family in New England.
In the center would be a photo of our middle sister sitting in a wheelchair in her nursing home, hooked up to her 24-hour oxygen supply, having returned from yet another visit to the hospital with pneumonia and congestive heart failure.
Across the bottom of the poster in large letters would be: GUESS WHICH SISTER SMOKED FOR 40 YEARS? -- GLAD I DIDN'T IN MASSACHUSETTS
DEAR GLAD: I can think of no more powerful anti-smoking message. Read on:
DEAR ABBY: I began smoking when I joined the military at 17. It was the cool thing to do. Movie stars, athletes and even doctors endorsed smoking in advertisements. Over the next 25 years, I tried to stop but didn't have the will power.
In 1977, my town sponsored a health fair. I went and took a breathing screening. I was told to blow into a tube. The attendant asked me to please blow harder because I was barely able to move the needle. Then she said, "I notice you have a pack of cigarettes in your shirt pocket." I was offended. I felt it was none of her business -- but a seed was planted.
Three weeks later, the American Cancer Society sponsored its first Great American Smokeout, encouraging smokers to quit for at least one day. I didn't smoke all day. That night, I threw the rest of my cigarettes away -- and I haven't smoked since. Quitting cold turkey was the hardest thing I ever did, Abby. This year I'm proud to say I have enjoyed 25 years of smoke-free living. -- ENJOYING A HEALTHY RETIREMENT IN FLORIDA
DEAR ENJOYING: Thank you for your timely letter. Tomorrow, Nov. 15, the American Cancer Society's Great American Smokeout will mark its 25th year. It grew out of a 1971 event in Randolph, Mass., in which Arthur P. Mullaney asked people to give up cigarettes for just one day and donate the money they saved to a high school scholarship fund.
In 1974, Lynn R. Smith, editor of the Monticello Times in Minnesota, spearheaded the state's first D-Day, or Don't Smoke Day. The idea caught on. On Nov. 18, 1976, the California Division of the American Cancer Society succeeded in getting nearly 1 million smokers to quit for the day.
Over the past 25 years, there have been dramatic changes in the way society views tobacco promotion and tobacco use. Smoking is now forbidden in airplanes, most public buildings and restaurants. Unfortunately, an estimated 47 million adults in the United States currently smoke, and because of it, approximately half of them will die prematurely.
Lung cancer is the leading cause of cancer death, and this year alone, there will be approximately 169,500 new cases diagnosed. More than 80 percent of lung cancers are thought to result from smoking.
So, Dear Readers, if you're hooked on tobacco and have been saying, "One of these days I've got to quit," take my advice -- join the Great American Smokeout and quit today!
For more information about the Great American Smokeout, call your local office of the American Cancer Society or (800) 227-2345, or visit the Web site: www.cancer org.
Dear Abby is written by Pauline Phillips and daughter Jeanne Phillips.
What teens need to know about sex, drugs, AIDS, and getting along with peers and parents is in "What Every Teen Should Know." To order, send a business-size, self-addressed envelope, plus check or money order for $5 (U.S. funds only) to: Dear Abby, Teen Booklet, P.O. Box 447, Mount Morris, IL 61054-0447. (Postage is included.)