Friday, January 6, 2017

I Don't Want to be Beautiful

A handful of weeks ago, I went to dinner with a friend who was giving me a ride home from work since Gil had a gig that night. Earlier that day (past weekend?) she was all over Snapchat and Facebook complaining about how the dudes at the car dealership kept hitting on her. On FB, a good number of her friends, male and female, commented about how it was because she was beautiful. On every single comment she replied a "No." or "Shut up, you're wrong".

When we were out to dinner, it was brought up again, and I half jokingly implied that the only reason she had posted anything in the first place was because she WANTED to be told how attractive she was. I was a little goading, but eventually got her to admit that was her goal. So, I obliged and told her all the ways she fits societies standards of beauty, she preened a little and then said "Oh! But so are you!" My response: So? I don't care if anyone thinks I'm beautiful. Kinda a conversation killer (or starter in the right crowds), and that was that.

But I stand by my statement. Yes, I want to be well groomed, and appropriately dressed for where ever I am, but my goal is always to blend in. I know, my hair is various shades of the rainbow depending on my mood, but it's almost always blended in with a "real" hair color, and I have never done my hair for anyone other than myself. It brings me such joy to see the various colors swirling and fading around my skull. It makes me feel like a work of art, and whenever I try to tone it down or get rid of it, I don't recognize myself in the mirror. So, while it might seem contradictory, I never want to be noticed by the masses. Especially not over something as subjective as beauty.

But that doesn't mean I don't want to leave my thumbprint on the people I encounter, the exact opposite is true. In fact, I want to leave lasting memories of kindness, and cleverness, snarkiness, and doofy laughter. I want my son to think of me and us meowing that we love each other. I want my friends and family to think of me making faces and talking to them in my Mom Voice because I care about them and do a rather shit job of showing it unless I sound sarcastic or like their mother.

I want the people I work on to remember the way it felt when I manipulated their muscles into proper position, and the rush of relief they felt. I want the children in my life to think of all the silly songs I put their names in so they feel uniquely loved.

I caught myself in the mirror yesterday and I had to chuckle, because I felt like I looked so, authentically me. Frizzy hair in a loose ponytail, chipped nail polish, jeans and a t-shirt. The way I have looked every single day of my life, no matter what life challenges I've faced, or how much I've grown as a person, I look the same as I did when I was 8, 5, 20, and I'll look the same when I'm 40, 60 and 80.

So sure, I never want to walk around smelling like a litter box, and I never want to bring anyone's attention to me because of how I'm dressed, but the things I truly care about involve absolutely nothing with how I look.

So, you know, just keep walking, nothing to see here. ;)

A Little Blasphemy as a Literal (and Figurative) Sign of Progress

 Hello there, it’s been a while, and in true returning from ghosting fashion, I am here to either share something vapid and meaningless, or ...