Be my queen if you know what I mean...
Ugh - I'm 41 years old, and given the task of thinking myself pretty has given me a complex akin to a 14 year old. Why, why, WHY - I'm too many years removed from Mr. Koeningschkindt's Honors English class (7th period) to be angsty about this crap again.
And yet, here I am, peering into mirrors to discover an angle that flatters, critiquing a chance image reflected back to me from a random shiny surface.
I've spent a lifetime downplaying the importance of pretty, a defense mechanism. I based my self-worth on being intelligent, clever, funny, artistic, a good friend. All good qualities to be sure. All reasons for being nominated as a woman of the year. But behold the power of pretty, you can't be a WOTY in Glamour or Cosmo without a serious makeover. Can't be a remarkable everyday guest on Rachel Ray or Oprah without the host screeching "maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake oveeeeeeeeer!"
Ugh. Again.
So how to I come to terms with the fact I live in a superficial society, a society I knowingly and annoyingly wish would see me as "pretty"? How do I discover the pretty in me, building confidence and self-esteem WITHOUT losing what makes me complete?
Well, let's start with this resistance TO a makeover. I must like something about who I am, what I am, the idea of staying true to myself without being pestered to change my clothes, my hair, my face.
Top down? I am so grateful to my son for the miracle of his birth that took me away from the hot irons and allowed my natural curls to bounce. I've had more good hair days in the last two years than I had the previous 39 years.
Eyes. I've been told my eyes are a remarkable color.
Just so you know, it has taken me 7 hours to type this much.
I love pretty things, and enjoy acquiring, wearing and admiring pretty things. Does that, by extension, rub off on me?
People tell me I'm funny, which means I share a fellowship of joy with people. Does that help make me pretty?
Watching the ESPYs during this and it only makes me feel kind of ugly. I'm not growing any taller. My hair is getting blonder by way of getting grayer. I'm certainly not getting any skinnier. And I can't recall every wearing any dresses as small as the athletes or actresses were wearing.
This is torture to type from someone who bought a special machine to help pluck her chin hairs.
More later tomorrow.
The Betty Ford funeral has helped put some things into perspective, as well as recalling a quote from crazy Canadian Toller Cranston.
The Toller quote is in reference to an early ice dance champion from the USSR. He said she wasn't much in the looks department, but when she danced, she sparkled and her love of art and sport radiated across the ice. This gives me hope that I have it in me to do this.
Then there is the case of our former First Lady, who was buried today. She lived a remarkable life, tackling issues with candor, grace, courage and respect. Yes, she was a model and dancer, but her ACTIONS are what formed her character and in turn, what made her so beloved by the nation. Her life as a model pales in comparison to her advocacy for breast cancer awareness, mental health, addictions, and women's rights.
That, more than ever, proves pretty is as pretty does.
In conculsion, while I may continue to work on the physical package and improve my performance, the other half, which is determined by character and good works. It's just making sure my inner pretty shines through.
No comments:
Post a Comment