Katy Hinson: secrets secrets are no fun

Well, we’re mad. Not because Ms. Hinson was unprepared, nor forgot to bring the goods, cause she sho’ nuff  had both in her back pocket. Strikingly beautiful, spirited, fun, engaging, well-hydrated (hey, we don’t take that lightly), and her South Carolina roots did her real good – more charm than a gentleman caller bearing a bouquet of Yellow Jessamines on a Sunday afternoon. We were just skipping in delight for her – sighing her name, dreamily gazing at the proof of her presence that day, wishing we could live within her golden hair and perfect smile….wait, what? Nevermind. So, how could we possibly be shaking our fists in her general direction?

How ’bout cause she never told us she was an actual beauty queen – a real live sash and crown wearer! She fully participated in an opening number, wore a swimsuit with sensible 4-inch heels, pageant walked and talked and (we’re assuming) sat atop a frothy float or convertible whilst giving the most perfect ‘elbow elbow wrist wrist, touch your pearls and blow a kiss’ anyone has ever seen!  HOW COULD YOU KEEP THAT FROM US, KATY?!? Well, okay, perhaps she was filled-in on our ‘Dance Fer Grandma’ policy (all special skills MUST be performed and recorded for posterity, no exceptions), and didn’t want us snatching at her glittery tiara and accompanying accoutrement (which, let’s be honest, would certainly have happened), but c’mon, keeping that kind of secret from us is like keeping sequined tunics and jazz pants from Liza Minnelli: it ain’t right, and it ain’t fair. But hey, we are absolute believers in ‘forgive and forget’, especially if the atonement is in the form of repeatedly rocking a frame. So, we cool. But we do offer a fair warning, with love: Grandma knows, Katy. And she’s expecting some dancin’.

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