Let's talk about beauty....nuff said.
The above is from a blog I ran for awhile. It's called Tumbled Euphoria. (http://tumbledeuphoria.blogspot.com). I think I will pull random posts into this blog.
Beauty ... Age... Maturity... Ripeness... I tend to think that for those that look at beauty as a thing to 'have' on themselves, they get hit pretty hard when that 'beauty' starts to change. My mother was beautiful. I thought she looked like Marilyn Monroe with her platinum hair and exquisite face. As a child I was always in awe of her matching gloves, shoes, hats and purses. She grew up in an era where beauty was of great importance. How else would you 'catch a man' if you were not beautiful and, if you couldn't be movie star beautiful, then you needed to have all the accoutrements of being well-heeled, well-dressed and having a pleasing personality.
Sadly I did not fit the mold and was always messy, tall and gawky and she was forever displeased with me. I disappointed her to no end and it never got better.
As females we are constantly bombarded with the offer of making ourselves 'beautiful', almost from the moment of birth, as if we aren't to start with. Now that I have reached a point where my looks are very different then they once were, I still struggle with the idea of beauty. I don't think I care as much at this point (i'm not looking for a mate), but I see and hear my mother every time I look in a mirror. My mother's lessons on how I should look never went away and I have always been conflicted about what I look like, what I want to look like and how others see me.
Many generations have done a disservice to females. Lofty thoughts of the 'perfect' woman were believed wholeheartedly by the females of my mother's generation as well as many generations before her.
My mother always said "Beauty is as beauty does.", but I think she was full of shit. There were too many times that she did not act beautifully but continued to look beautiful. There is a truth to that saying, but again, it is forcing a way to "be".
Depersonalization was I game I could play quite well as a child. My own concept of me was formed and based on my own objective self-awareness. Was I suppose to be beautiful like my mother? I did not feel that way and I did not look like her. Confusion reigned... and still does in many circumstances.