What does it take to be beautiful?

Posted: September 13, 2012 in otiose

Something lodged under the thick skin on the heel of my hand, and I started to pick at it until the flesh sloughed off.
Maybe the debris isn’t even there anymore.

I can’t tell.

Where I work at the moment, the men rate women by numbers.
They make obscene comments about strangers amongst themselves.
I have, yet again, been deemed a non-entity around these boys.

This is how I function best.

I have been termed “smart” and “cultured” as opposed to “beautiful.”

Sometimes, I peek my head out into the soup of happy lives to glance at the beautiful objects of their vulgarity.
I quietly wonder what it takes.
It’s not a desire to emulate the pretty, decorous exterior.
I know those rules.
It’s not envy, although I may sometimes harbor empty aesthetic admiration
or awe.
It’s not even a curiosity about her personality.
I don’t care who she thinks she is.

I go back to working quietly, without comment to my obnoxious coworkers, and I wonder what it takes.

What does it take to seek
only to go through the motions of rejecting it for a perpetual show and dance?

What sort of mindset does it take to deal with being beautiful with any sense of grace?

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