I am more than a pretty face

In going on all these dates, I get tired of the word ” pretty” getting thrown around.  It’s nice someone thinks that of me ( and most of the time I can never tell how sincere it is ) but all of that is beside the point.

I am not just pretty. Ugly. White. Multicultural. Fat. Big breasted. Intelligent. Ditzy. Klutzy. Funny. Sad. Drama Queen. Three degrees. Painter. Singer. Writer. Failure. Triumph. SPirit. Service. Winged flight.

I am more than these things. Much more. I am not just one thing or what your perception of me is. The truth is, what is beauty? Is beauty truly the same for everyone? Are smells all uniformly delicious?
Of course not. We are all so diverse, so enigmatic, so complex that beauty, true beauty is only from the spirit.
Generosity? That is pretty. That will always be pretty.

I see myself , and I do not want people to love me for one thing. I don’t want to be defined by it, shaped by it created by it.
I am scared of the label pretty , more than I was of ugly. Ugly can be beautiful but pretty? That can get ugly very fast.
Those bloated, plastic covered women on television. Holding on to what was.
I love makeup, but I can see how it fades after a time. I can see how if you look closely anyone can be ugly.
Words, they are just words. Am I crazy for wanting more? HOw many times do people call me pretty, or not pretty enough… or maybe pretty or too old to be pretty. How many times do I get women looking down at me putting me down? My sisters, trying to become better by stepping over others?
How many times do I see a girl look down in shame because she isn’t pretty enough so she goes to every corner on the internet to get people to love her to adore her so she becomes the paper mannequin . She moulds herself, shapes herself becomes part of a world that Never Enough is a slogan. Where we delve so deeply into our selves, so entrenched in our own individualism we don’t see how much we need to help each other, how much we need community. We are so caught up in our own reflection that we don’t see the neighbor wanting to give us soup when we are sick. The stranger who smiles at us for no good reason but because she wants others to be happy. The street musician singing a melody that should be in stadiums but is only on a dark street corner. No, we do not see this. We see only if someone is pretty. We see if soemone dresses right or talks the right way.
We extol our Gods, the Celebrities, and look for them to be our height of perfection and underneath their podium are hundreds pulling the strings. And we swallow ourselves in debt trying to be be be be , be the paper mannequin.
And in the end really who is looking ? Who is really seeing us for who we are?
I am more than a pretty face. Look into my eyes. I am more than just what you desire, or don’t desire or what YOU want. We are human beings and we can all share our knowledge, that tiny drop we have accumulated on this earth. That one clear concise moment of clarity that we know, that spark of spirit.

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