The one thing I’ve desperately wanted my whole life is to be beautiful. I have fought this desire tooth and nail. Well, I’m done. I’ve got no more minutes or anguish left to give this deep, deep desire. I haven’t come to terms with it, but I refuse to continue refusing that I want it.
I want to be beautiful.
What does that mean? I have more ideas of what it doesn’t mean.
Being beautiful doesn’t mean being skinny. It doesn’t mean being fat either. I’m not really certain what it does mean when it comes to body shape and size, but I know that beauty doesn’t include hating any physical part of yourself. It might have something to do with feeling strong and healthy.
Being beautiful doesn’t mean being a victim. That’s one of those twisted things that some abused children learn. If you’re beautiful, you get attention. Unfortunately, it’s from a monster. So, you want to be beautiful, but if you are, it’s your fault that the monster notices you. Conversely, if you’re not beautiful, you piss the monster off. Talk about a razor’s edge existence. But that’s what happens when beings who are only at the “I’m the center of the universe” stage of mental development try to figure out how to make it in the world on their own.
Being beautiful doesn’t mean hiding in shame or keeping the secrets of a monster. It also doesn’t mean perpetuating the misery. It might have something to do with testifying and moving on.
If it feels like there’s a desperate, tenuous hold, then that’s not beauty. That’s desperation, fear and insecurity. If it feels like it’s going to be taken away by someone else’s opinion (real or imagined) that’s not beauty. That’s insecurity, fear, desperation and … dumbness.
If it feels anything other than joyous, sexy, loving, colorful, funny, languid and energizing, that’s not beauty. If it does feel any and all of those things, then bingo!
This could be fun.
Beauty doesn’t have anything to do with the clothes in my closet or whether I need new underwear. It doesn’t have anything to do with the scent of the bottles of liquid soap in my shower. It might have to do with whether or not I use moisturizer with sunscreen, but it’s not about the moisturizer with sunscreen. It’s about loving myself so much that I use moisturizer with sunscreen.
Being beautiful doesn’t mean defiantly refusing to care for myself. It doesn’t mean feeling so downtrodden that I take a false stand that does more harm than good and is actually a reflection of how bad I feel. Being beautiful does mean all the moments of life that are a chance or that are a fulfillment.
Beauty doesn’t placate or lash out. Fear placates and anger lashes out. Beauty doesn’t belittle anyone else. Beautify also knows where to draw the line.
I think I’m done writing about it for the moment and am going to go and enjoy it. No little black dress required.
Susan Scot Fry
Update… Much of the day included feeling things that are beautiful. Okay, that sounds kinda dirty – which can be beautiful in itself… What I mean is, many of the thoughts and feelings I experience on a regular basis felt better. Happier. Prettier. More delightful.
What I’m trying to say is that life is much easier when I’m not judging whether or not I’m beautiful first. That’s a wonderful assumption.