What the hell is beauty, anyways? Where does it come from? Who has beauty, who determines what is beautiful, who determines who is beautiful? Am I beautiful? Are you beautiful? Is that girl sitting over there beautiful? How about that girl, or that one, that old woman, that little girl, are they beautiful? Can men be beautiful? Is he beautiful, or him? Who is beautiful? What is beautiful?
I heard a song once that a girl didn’t know she was beautiful, and that was what made her beautiful and I’ve heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. If I think I’m beautiful, does that make me ugly? Am I only beautiful to someone who beholds me? What if no one beholds me?
They say that beauty is pain. I’ve been told that makeup can fix this, hide that, distract from this. Is beauty makeup and hair? Is it curled blonde locks with perfect brows and bronzed skin? Is beauty tanning beds and peeling sunburns that will fade into a tan you are told time and again? Is beauty hot wax ripping hair from your body and sharp razors nicking your skin to cut the unsightly hairs? Is beauty the burns from hot irons twisting around your hair? Is it the breaking, frayed hair, bleached within an inch of its life?
Is it my clothes that make me beautiful? Do the clothes that make me comfortable not make me beautiful? Is it my body that makes me beautiful? Is it the fact that I have the parts of a woman that make me beautiful? Do the whistles that follow me down the street when I wear tight jeans, or a short skirt mean that I am beautiful?
Because they make me feel horrible. Like I am nothing more than a puppet, dressed up each day and painted to please the audience.
That is not what makes me feel beautiful.
I think that beauty is pamper sessions when you are home alone, no makeup days, and experimenting with makeup. I think beauty is tights in the winter to cover up hairy legs, messy hair thrown up in a bun, and baggy sweaters stolen from fathers and brothers to keep you cozy in the cold.
I think beauty is laughter and intelligence and bravery. Beauty is within and without, curved thighs and skinny thighs, pale skin and dark skin, men and women, young and old.
I don’t just think it, I know. I feel it in every fiber of my body and in every bone. Beauty is in every person, no matter what, no questions or exceptions. Even when the whole world seems to be screaming otherwise, you are beautiful.