I want to write about beauty – or rather I don’t want to write about it at all but it keeps running around my head so I have to. It’s annoying as I fear I’ll be judged for it, and I fear it’ll invite all the but you are and it’s within that come with the subject which however sweet and lovely and sometimes thoroughly welcome are not where I’m going with this today. I want to strip it bare and talk about it objectively and say bald statements like I was and not invite the contrary. That all right with everyone, just this once? Okay. Here goes.
I was beautiful, I had my time, a classic beauty that makes men turn their heads and older women feel bad about themselves. Yesterday as we drove to dinner a girl reversed out of her house in a convertible mini and she had that, those lips, her sunglasses, an insouciance so casual it makes the hours spent in front of the mirror seem pathetic in the face of it. She turned her head to see us and stopped and we passed her and everyone in our car went wow, okay, there she is, and on we went. In town it was hot, I wore a long dress, the breeze wasn’t enough, we walked up narrow, cobbled streets, ivy-draped houses, their shutters open, we were too early for our table. And there she was again, appearing out of an alley as we took a turn about the town to waste time, shorts and white vest, a cat in a carrier in her arms and she was looking again, I thought for the vet but it turned out for the restaurant next to the one we were aiming at. Taking her cat out to dinner with her friend, she sat with her back to us, smooth brown shoulder blades, blonde hair caught up in a twist, legs that didn’t dimple on her chair. And so we talked about beauty as we ordered tagine and the burnt pink flowers draped through ivy around us. My sons, after some coaxing, named a person at school they thought beautiful, coaxing because we had to get past the it’s subjective phase and be clear I was asking about conventional beauty without judgement on better or worse. My ManPerson named easily the girl who’d been It when he was young. Then the question, why did we all name women, and so we thought of men, too, famous ones, trying to sum up the essence. We found it hard to talk about without making it personal, what does it imply about us as if it’s a prize earned rather than a passing phase that means nothing. It opens so many doors, it invites so much comment, it’s something everyone is encouraged to want. Then I was asked, who was it at your school, don’t say it was you but it was, beauty like the girl with the cat. I was aware of it. It got so much attention. I was taught it mattered. And then it was gone, and yes that other beauty, the one we all possess took over that’s so much harder to value yet which means so much more, that isn’t a passing phase, that is deep and universal and without compare. See, even I who is in charge of this page cannot stop myself from ending on that note, inner beauty, kindness, wisdom, we are all so much more beautiful now.
Thank goodness beauty is in the eye of the beholder, wouldn't it be awful if we were all attracted to the same "type"? Caveat, I am from a generation where only the rich got "plastic surgery" and where some people were cute as kids and grew out of it (as evidenced at the 10 year reunion) some (like myself) peaked much later (30's) and I am not sure who had the better deal. As in love, is it better to have had it and lost it, than to have never had it at all? Best wishes!
Was I I don’t know. Most definitely not the IT beautiful but also not not beautiful. I did not know it. I was not told it or taught it as a child , so there we have it. I did not understand at all and therefore assumed it was just for something I could give people A thing , an act , a service . I was told I was “ attractive “ 😂🤣not beautiful! Fat , small piggy eyes , these things stick. I am very beautiful now and in many ways 💕