Beauty (?)

I've been thinking a lot about the concept of beauty lately (you know). And I'd like to point out that I'm talking about the Concept, not just being atractive. The word, "beautiful" has been applied to so many different looks, has had so many changes that it's impossible to just box and label it. From having hot curves with meat on them, sculpted bodies, to being sickly skinny (Does anyone remember Twiggy? She started it, but now it's been taken too far).

Not cool people. Not healthy. Not beautiful. For example, what's the point of a work of art? We're all so different ourselves, it's logical that we'll all see it differently. Its beauty lies in what it transmits. In how it makes you feel. Free? Happy? Or sad? Can you feel the confusion, or the joy, that the artist felt when he was painting? That's where the paintings' beauty truly lies. However, what do you feel when you see a girl that is starving herself to be thin and show off her clothes like the models on a magazine? Can you feel the girls insecurity? Her sadness, frustration? There may fashion there, but there is no beauty.

Or let's say that anyone, really, regardless gender. But for this example let us say a woman is in her time physically perfect: she has a perfect nose, a great body, beautiful face, great teeth... you name it. She also happens to be married, but she always greets her husband with an ugly expression on her face. Ranging from angry at worst, indifferent at best. To her husband, she does not look beautiful.

I am not saying that people shouldn't try and dress up, look nice and primp themselves up. I do it everyday. I enjoy doing it. You could even say it's in my DNA. But what's behind, that's what really comes across. I'm not a pro at it, the proof is in my last post. I've bought some magazines to give me ideas, but those are just suggestions, not canons. I personally like to look pretty, but I strive to look beautiful to my hubby, to my baby, my family, my friends.

We all need beauty, true beauty in our lives.

Talk to the shoe (pump's got attitude)

You know one of lifes' paradox, at least in my case? Shoes. I looove shoes. But I am so darn picky! Coming to look for shoes with me can tire anyone, especially my hubby who buys them.

What about these? Thay're nice.
Yeah... I nod, and keep walking.

Or these? Didn't you mention you wanted ones just like these the other day?
Well, they're very similar, but these have/don't have x.
But you can barely tell them apart.
I know. But still.

I smile apologetically, hug him, and keep walking. It'll probably take me three trips to the mall or its similar to find shoes I'd actually pay for. For example, when I bought my boots I had to drag my amado around shops for a whole weekend and I finally found them at this mall that's for shoes only and shaped like a square. Wanna try and guess in which store I finally found them? In the last freakin'one. If I'd gone right instead of left we would've gone home much, much sooner. And even then they weren't the boots, only we'd been in countless amount of stores and I was worried about exasperating my husband beyond buying me the darned things.



Did I mention I have to love them on sight? I can step into a store, take a quick look around, and if nothing perks my attention at once it won't at all so I'm outta there in three minutes flat most of the time. Tops. I cover a lot of ground that way.

Also, while I might be incredibly picky, I love to look at the shoes other women wear. I can't help it. My eyes are inevitably drawn to the floor to check them out. Mostly I wouldn't buy them either, but now and then I find a real looker and I secretly swoon to my husband who briefly looks the way I indicated, but now it's he is turn to keep walking.

And I'd like to finish this most with a personal issue. See, I couldn't of cared less about shoes, high heels in particular. That is, before I got pregnant. It was when I became an urban penguin and high heels were out of the question that I finally started to notice how pretty these kind of shoes were. But I couldn't wear them! It would frustrate me so much, that I vowed to myself that as soon as Belle Fille had been born and my shoe size became stable once again I would start to wear those funky things.

Except at school. High heels and public transportation do. not. mix.