The 4 C's

It seems that jewellery is problem. Not for me of course. I love anything and everything shiny, and I'm no crow. I know the sparkles like the back of my hand. And it's not even my profession. I have four daughters and I call them Cut, Clarity, Colour and Carat. And I shouldn't be made ashamed to wear them, because they are my own flesh and blood. I have worked hard all my life, and pushed during labour. No I have never robbed a bank. I wouldn't be here writing this if I had. And I'm no gold digger, far from it. There never has been such a thing as a freebie for me. People can come to the conclusions they want simply because they'd love them to be true. But it ain't. Not a word of it. So I have a reputation because I like older guys. Geeze that's no sinning against humanity, I ain't corrupting people who could pass as my dad, although my dad looks 40 years younger than them. Older men are more interesting, they know what they want, and it's not as if I'm picking them p at St. Vincent de Paule's. They are free to come, and free to go. That's the only free thing about it all. Otherwise, it ain't my fault. It takes two, sometimes three, sometimes more. But that should not be of anybody's concern. I'm committing no crime. I choose my life, or rather it chooses me. And the intrinsic need to see my hands, my ears and my neck, among other areas, sparkle has been with me for as long as I can remember. It still is. And I'm not sorry. If you can hear me before you see me, well, then you might as well turn deaf if you don't like it. And if you just cannot appreciate the beauty in it, then it's sour grapes. And it doesn't concern me.