I couldn’t resist! I just had to share this excerpt from Tina Fey’s new book Bossypants. Brilliant, real, and HILARIOUS!Tina Fey’s A Mother’s Prayer for Her DaughterFirst, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truthnor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that drawsthe creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.When the Crystal Meth is offered,May she remember the parents who cut her grapes in halfAnd stick with Beer.Guide her, protect herWhen crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean,swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform,crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms,getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing,leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels,roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,”“Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Rollfeaturing Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever,anywhere, at any age.Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance.Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectuallyfulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels.What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design?I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with thesinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen. Let her draw horsesand be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short- a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is longand dry-humping in cars will wait.O Lord, break the Internet forever, That she may be spared the misspelledinvective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for”Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.”And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in frontof Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directlyinto a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit.I will not have it.And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord,that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M.,all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creaturewhose poop is leaking up its back.“My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans fecesoff her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayedgratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and shewill make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget.But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.Amen.
Michelle Leath
