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Man POSE fills me with feelings. Memory.
I remember coming home from school every now and again and hearing that my sister or my brother had been approached by modeling scouts, and hearing them dismiss it like it was nothing. My body was changing, feeling increasingly deformed.
I remember coming home from school every now and again and hearing that my sister or my brother had been approached by modeling scouts, and hearing them dismiss it like it was nothing. My body was changing, feeling increasingly deformed.
On top of that I'd just gone from a world of control and abuse into a new one I couldn't understand. Like, they used language I had never heard and could not parse. I felt like I'd had my childhood stolen from me. Like I was 14 years behind everyone.
And so when I'd hear about how people had approached my siblings it just made me feel even further from being anything worthwhile. I knew I was worthless- that was basic Calvinist dogma- but I didn't want to feel that. I wanted so bad to be beautiful.
I held a lot of bitterness wrapped in that for the longest time. Rather than learning makeup and style, I scorned it with every bit of self-hating homophobia in me. I let my envy fool me into finding a way to feel superior: I wasn't like those shallow people. I had *depth*.
Meanwhile, I'd look in the mirror and feel split in two.
Meanwhile, I'd be organizing styles in my mind, imagining how I'd dress if I were pretty, what my hair would be like. Then I'd notice what I was thinking and
Shut.
It.
Out.
That was how the shallow people thought.
Meanwhile, I'd be organizing styles in my mind, imagining how I'd dress if I were pretty, what my hair would be like. Then I'd notice what I was thinking and
Shut.
It.
Out.
That was how the shallow people thought.
It's funny how I've learned that so many of the things I used to pretend were shallow are the things I wanted more than anything. I had to hate them, because otherwise... Well, I couldn't do it anyway.
Why want something you can't ever have?
Why want something you can't ever have?
I told myself that if I wanted beauty then I had to create it in my spirit. Physical beauty is ephemeral. It blossoms and then fades like wild Lady Slippers with twisting laces. I wasn't a Lady Slipper: I was an ugly Peony, hiding my head beneath dark and layered foliage.
So I searched for the deep, and I thought the true beauty must lie in something that seems unobtainable: in wisdom. If I could face the mirror of truth and step through, then perhaps I could gain something truly real: something that only death can take away.
I searched out the beauty in forgotten things:
In trampled dandelions pushing impossibly through asphalt cracks.
In a series of words that, when put together transformed searing pain into something beautiful.
In the weight of a second shadow.
In the elusive Dutchman's Pipe
In trampled dandelions pushing impossibly through asphalt cracks.
In a series of words that, when put together transformed searing pain into something beautiful.
In the weight of a second shadow.
In the elusive Dutchman's Pipe
I looked for it everywhere, but never in myself. In myself, I only saw pain and rot. Nothing beautiful. Nothing worthwhile.
I tried to prove I had it anyway with sesquipedalian elocution (using big words).
I tried to prove it by showing off.
Anything to distract from *me*.
I tried to prove I had it anyway with sesquipedalian elocution (using big words).
I tried to prove it by showing off.
Anything to distract from *me*.
But I never stopped searching for wisdom, and sometimes I cursed that- because it meant that the times I *most* wanted to blame everyone else for my problems were the very times I most needed to take responsibility and reflect. I learned to challenge myself when it hurt.
And bit by bit, I grew.
Bit by bit, parts of me came through, too. I began to choose my sense of style more often. I began to try to stand up, though it took years to get that down.
I'm still doing that. Whatever wisdom is, I still haven't found it. But I have found something.
Bit by bit, parts of me came through, too. I began to choose my sense of style more often. I began to try to stand up, though it took years to get that down.
I'm still doing that. Whatever wisdom is, I still haven't found it. But I have found something.
I watch this show and oh, heavens, how I ache to be pretty! And healthy! How I want a perfect body! I want to slide through the world and be *noticed*.
I've grown: I can admit this to myself now.
But, I was right about one thing: physical beauty *is* ephemeral.
I've grown: I can admit this to myself now.
But, I was right about one thing: physical beauty *is* ephemeral.
But it's also more: Because every expression is an experience point for a future wrinkle, and those creases of age that I'm so scared of will come to reflect the most common expressions of my youth. I will have earned every one of them, and they'll be perfect.
Every time I've looked at someone with genuine compassion is recorded in my skin. Every grimace, every smile, every sudden laugh. If I ever manage to acquire true wisdom, that will be there too.
My wrinkles will each contain the beauty of a million forgotten expressions.
My wrinkles will each contain the beauty of a million forgotten expressions.
If you look at the creases in your palm, how many millions of precision movements did it take to create them? How many?
You literally count them on your fingers.
You literally count them on your fingers.
I will certainly never be a model. I'll probably never clothe my body in something so stunning and strut my way down a red carpet either.
But I can bring you tea when you're feeling down.
And every day, I wear my heart on my face just a little bit more.
But I can bring you tea when you're feeling down.
And every day, I wear my heart on my face just a little bit more.
Every day, I become a little more beautiful.
