Tuesday, April 28, 2009

eye of the beholder

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.

5 comments:

  1. 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.

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  2. Ahh, 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!

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  3. You 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.

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  4. I'm too old for a bikini to but I don't mind looking good naked.

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  5. Yes, darned overdue child... and over the Australian summer too!

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