This thing of beauty….

The parade of what we are told is beauty….seems odd to me…

It does not seem like beauty…

It seems to be extreme unhappiness….paraded in a stick body with the falsetto smile…..

Like the one they teach beauty pageant contestants to have…

Not too much teeth so you look crazy…

And not too little teeth….that you look ashamed….

Boobs seem to be a sign of beauty….(yes I used that word)….

And either stick thin…flat butts…

Or booty for days….

And when each is portrayed…each is sexually related….

Which has nothing to do with beauty….

Wanting to do someone…is at the moment..the physical attraction….the burst….

Wanting to continue to do someone….most likely is seeing the beauty….

And most falter…and stumble when they have to look upon the person…rather than use them for their pleasure…

And some of us go there and some of us do not….

I have been called beautiful….

And some of that is the still life pictures seen of me…

And some are through the candid shots…when I did not know anyone was looking….

And some were encounters of others engaging in my life…and me in theirs…

But most of that are for people who are awake….

So beauty….

Is it the stick thin…I cannot eat a chip…with the pretend smile…of look at me…I am thin….and am a size 0…I can look sexy in a thong…at 12…thank Daddy for the boob job…alluring…she must be a good….(you know what)…cause I can rub my hands up and down her body…finding no bumps…squilches…or cellulite…except coming upon those man made knockers….

Or…

It is the bouncing booty…wrapped in spandex…or chiffon…fluttering to heights as I bounce down to the floor…and the carved abdomen…flat as cast iron…yet the added addition of the rack…of Dolly Parton…and the booty of…well pick a name…looking tanned and oiled…showing the goods…having little to the imagination…knowing the world has seen more of them…than the private partner…and spectacular videos…illustrating the escapades and how wanted I am…

And I ask the question…

What are you wanted for….?

Do people listen when you speak…

Or do they attempt to digest and define you…to assimilate you..in ways suitable for their…perception…

And how quickly do we tire of the the constant neediness…to validate one as beautiful…

So antics ensue to keep the light upon them…

Perhaps beauty is different…than the manufactured…packaged product..being sold…

And the question is this…

Do we know what it is…?

Will be able to recognize it…ever again…?

Is it gone forever….?

And what does it mean…what does it validate…if I receive the false honor of being called beautiful…?

Yet this I know to be true…

I have yet to hold court with myself….and parade that I am better than another…using my age and insecurity…or realistically hate..to compete with another….to move their eyes toward me..and away from another…because I saw myself as a shell of a human being…who had to use my butt and boobs…because I had nothing else to offer…who’s identity was wrapped in what I was doing in the moment…and I was pointless without it…

And that includes every woman who identifies herself as wonderful…because she is a mother…

Were you not wonderful before the child made an appearance…to validate you…?

I think so…

This post will hit hot spots…

It will make some think…of why…why am I doing thus…

And as I sit here…in my pink pajamas….with my librarian glasses on…in a t-shirt two sizes too big…thinking about a donut I would like to eat…and maybe I am a little pale…and grey is moving through my hair…and this time I will let it show….

Because I cannot compete…

Nor make the stretch marks and the baby belly (nor do I want to)…go away at 52…

Or have everything be in the proper place…

Nor have anyone alter it so it is in its proper space…

I am going to think about the woman I saw last night at work…

Who was bigger than what we allow people to be…

Who made me laugh so hard…I snorted…

And I thought…

Damn girl…now that is what I want to be…

Now that is beauty….

Not manufactured…or packed for our consumption through our greedy…sick eyes…

Just life peeking out through…tired eyes…sweaty hands…and food goo from the three children…her body carried…

I remember those times…

I remember it with tears…because I was trying to be anything but that…

I thought I was distasteful…ugly..useless…

I was wrong…

I was the most beautiful in my life…than I will ever be again…

And yes…I would give good money to go there again…

In a second…

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~ by HopeGlenn on July 7, 2015.

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