beautiful

“There are no bad pictures; that's just how your face looks sometimes.” 
- Abraham Lincoln

I tuned the corner from our bedroom into the hallway last night, right in front of the open bathroom door where Eric was standing, telling me something I hadn't been able to hear clearly coming from a mouth full of foamy toothpaste. And then he just stopped, mid sentence. Long pause.  What were you saying??  "I..... I'm sorry, this is going to sound really dumb, but I was talking and then I looked up at you and you looked so pretty I completely forgot what I was talking about."  Very funny Eric. But really. "No, really." 

Beauty it is a word swarmed around by countless issues in my head. The first time Eric enthusiastically declared "You are the most beautiful woman in the world" I looked straight back at him and said "No. I am NOT!  That is simply not true. Take it back." He had no idea. Rather than being flattered, I felt indignant, almost hurt, and a little angry. And so followed an argument. 

My points: 

• I don't want to be loved or valued because I am beautiful or not beautiful. I am what I am. I want you to love me. I want to be loved even though it is completely obvious I do not possess the most beautiful face or body in the world. Anything else seems somewhat shallow.
• And what a ridiculous statement! To line all the women up in the world and crown one of them with such a title is impossible and demeaning. Superlatives have always bothered me.  Plus, all I can think about is this: "And when you're on the street, depending on the street, you're definitely in the top three good-looking girls on the street, depending on the street"

His: 

• Well I really do believe that! 
• It's true to me and you can't tell me it isn't. 
• That is how I feel and I want you to know. I don't want to lie to you.

We compromised with an agreement that he can say that phrase (occasionally) if and only if he ads "to me" at the end. You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me.

I just really don't find being told you are beautiful to be a compliment. You have absolutely no control over what body you are given to inhabit.  And love? Love should be so beyond beauty or lack thereof. If it isn't, it isn't love.

I realize a good deal of this all stems from my time with Mr. Garrett Smith. Before he even knew who I was, he declared his love, which felt to me so based on appearance and construct that I mistrusted it from the start. Even though his love later became completely, powerfully real, the idea that it began so based on how I looked, how he valued that one part of me so greatly, made me itch. 

Let me be clear, beauty should be celebrated, created,  admired, and enjoyed in whatever form we find it in this life. But competitive beauty is depressing and unnecessary. 

In conclusion: I feel sick looking at the postures and makeup and clothes my 12-18 year old young women pose and post in, all in an attempt to elicit a stream of "OMG! you are SO beautiful!!!" comments-- hopefully more than their friends' last attempts accumulated--and therefore feel better about themselves. I want to scream (in a kind, and acceptable manner) to all women everywhere "You are not the most beautiful! You don't need to be! Give up the quest and just be happy!"