I've finally got to acknowledge that I'm a bit of a princess {surprise!}. I now totally put my hand up to the fact that I need to be surrounded by pretty things - if not, I become despondent. I don't care if it's useful, or practical - I need it to look good at the same time. I went to a tupperware party recently and while I know that the products are fabulous, I couldn't buy anything because the retro-themed colours {avocado green, dark brown, mustard yellow} don't float my boat. It's why I work on a pretty iMac rather than a staid PC. I'm a pretty-ist - I might as well admit it.
However, with people, oh, with people I accept the quirks and differences {but not ugly fashion - I won't go there}. I can't abide sameness or anything bland. To me, beauty that stands out offers up a difference. Look at the editor of French Vogue - she's stunning and yet in no way a typical, pretty woman.
On our weekend talk turned to plastic surgery. One of the women is ready for her breast reduction - which I totally understand. She's not trying to conform to a norm, just wants a life free from back and shoulder pain. However, when people start wanting to shave a little off their nose, or liposuction their thighs... that's where I have my issues. I used to loathe the bump on my nose, for years I despised it. But now, I reckon it gives me character, and balances out my features. It's my nose. I'm always sad when I see gorgeous roman noses given the ski-jump treatment - people's faces never look the same when parts of their septum are shaved away. It's the same with thighs - some of us have thin thighs, others are more generously proportioned - vive la difference...
So here's to beauty, in all its guises.
Amen. Though I still want chemical peels on all my baby producing stretch marks when I'm all done with child bearing. Nothing can make me comfortable with those dumb things.
ReplyDeleteAhh, the mama marks. Can't say I'm too fond of them, but I'm too old for bikinis and midriff tops anyway - and hubby helped produce them, so he can't complain... But I know where you're coming from. At 37 weeks I felt astonished that I didn't have any until one morning, riiiiiiiip, and then they kept coming till delivery at 42 weeks!
ReplyDeleteYou delivered at 42 weeks? Thats insane. Thats awful. I would have held a sit in at the hospital if they would have made me wait that long. No, I would have had that sit in at the doctors HOUSE, on his/her bed. Ugh. You are more patient than me.
ReplyDeleteI'm too old for a bikini to but I don't mind looking good naked.
ReplyDeleteYes, darned overdue child... and over the Australian summer too!
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