I have said this before, I love people watching. I look at people and I write their stories.
Thursday morning me and the boys were in Aroma coffeeshop (I know I have a problem with coffeeshops, but I do not think they have a problem with me!) and I looked at an exquisite girl. Somewhat Gothic features, and fairylike simultaneously. She sat daintily next to a shopping trolley holding on to it, as if she was scared that someone would take it from her. The two women who joined her looked so out of place. Old neglected nags. Bushy hair. Wrinkled faces. Seemingly toothless mouths, constantly working their gums front to back, front to back. Tracky pants and T-shirts that replaced the witches garb, flip-flops in stead of pointy black shoes.
She remained poised, sitting upright, maintaining her posture and composure, smiling minimally, only just at times.
The contrast was so striking. My description so unfair. I judged the two ladies with her based on their appearances. Drew a ghastly picture from what I saw. Allowed my imagination to tell a story of two villains and a damsel in distress.
We all do it, don’t we? In all of this I thought, ‘Man, if one of these ladies is this girl’s mother, this girl is in for one hell of a surprise when she gets old, because her clan does not age gracefully!’
Ah, the musings of a coffeeshop addict!
Yes, we are on the topic of beauty. Our very skew and ever changing perception of beauty. One day skinny bottoms are in, next day they are out and Kimmie booties are in (butt not shoes). Save for the select few, we do not meet the standards of the even fewer who draw the pictures of the clothes we, the masses aspire to wear.
So we form part of the hapless many, who are…(gulp)…UGLY.
I call B.S on that one!
Like the 94 year old powerhouse who was informed in her younger days, “You may not be beautiful, but you have style!” She has something, and I want that! She has zest for life. She a bloodred lipsticked smile, and short-short hair, and big-big glasses (so I can see you better, my dear!) and she is bebangled from the wrist to mid arm with elaborate bangles.
Beauty truly is a thing of the beholder. The gothic fairy at Aroma saw something in her companions that I would never be able to see. My husband sees something in me, that I struggle to see. I see things in my sister that she is still to discover.
Beauty is not skin deep. It sits in the eyes of the one who looks at you. It sits in the heart of the one who loves you. Beauty moves in when you smile. Beauty becomes your name when you care. Your tears wash your face in beauty when you hurt, but continue to love.
Beauty is growing old together and walking hand in hand, while people have to make their way around you. It is captured in the look across a table, that surpasses understanding. Beauty is the realisation that you can do this thing called life. Understanding that you were made for a time such as this. It is being present. Beauty is in the mindfulness of the moment. Beauty is in relationships.
I saw a Gothic fairy princess and two witches. She saw the woman who fed her as a baby, who changed her nappies and kissed her boo-boos. She saw the one who made sure she was tucked in at night and had her lunch ready for school. She saw what I could not, because I am not close to them.
Or maybe, she was a Gothic fairy princess… and I was right.