I’m not pretty. Well, not in the Aishwarya Rai or Vanessa Marcil kind of 'pretty' that I’d prefer, but more of the da Vinci 'Virgin of the Rocks' classically structured face. In what feels like a past life, I was, for a time an artist’s muse. There is 'art' out there in the world of me; paintings of me, photographs of me. I once had an art critic say of my beauty that “I was as timeless as art itself”. Personally, I felt that was kinder than I deserved; but beauty is, I suppose, in the eye of the beholder.
And I beheld that beauty…a few years of art history appreciation had me realize that every culture has its own kind standard and that time brings its own standard to the fore. I’ve recently read some of Shmuley Boteach’s books—(I’m just about ready to start my fourth); he frequently talks about a lack of sensuality in today’s sexuality.
One hundred years ago women who were robust and fleshy were the most desirous—it was the sensual experience of the softness and suppleness of her body that made her opposed to a man’s rugged muscularity and hardness. It was the seduction of the differences to the differences that made a woman alluring. Even today, in parts of North Africa, a heavy woman is the social standard for having one hot babe on your arm.
I had an email today from a girlfriend in Spain. She’s by any standard a Slovak beauty. She told me she had gotten heavy (me too) and that she realized that everywhere she had lived in the U.S. and Europe when she was unhappy, she gained weight. When she was happy again, she lost it. I’ve thought about that today and she’s right, I’ve had the same experience.
A year ago I was at the gym twice a day, some cardio and weights in the morning, back for a zumba dance class at night. For all of the years that I took dance classes—from modern to belly dancing, I didn’t know how much I would love Latin rhythms—and I do. I don’t speak a word of Spanish, and wish I could sing along…but I can’t. The closest I’ve come is that I did have an invitation today from her to come spend some time with her in Spain…she’ll be happy to read that I’m thinking about it…
I went to the gym and ran into one of my old zumba classmates. One of them said to me “since that guy, you haven’t been the same—when are you coming back?” She was right, too. In the last year, I’ve lost a part of my spirit. I thought about my friend in Spain and how right now she’s in a relationship with a great guy and it’s not enough. She said it wasn’t about him, but confusion within herself; that he’s an amazing guy and would be sad to leave him but she doesn’t really feel fulfilled since leaving the U.S. a couple of years ago. She’s missing the comfort of closeness of friends or family even though he’s perfectly compatible and wonderful to her.
That led me to thinking about 'that guy' and gifts. It is a gift for someone to offer you friendship. The older you get, the less likely it is you make friends; acquaintances, yes. Maybe you share one particular interest—or you work with someone that you spend some time with outside of the office, but someone you can share the intimacies of your life with, a real friend, someone that you bond with is a completely different story.
Do they squander a gift when someone chooses not want you as a friend? I feel that it is so. It’s interesting to me because at the same time I offered ‘that guy’ friendship and he turn away from it, he claimed that he was lonely. Depression: internalized anger masquerading as loneliness. I always say that people come into your life for a reason. Sometimes the reason is for you; sometimes the reason is for them. People wonder what the meaning of life is…experience. Life is about experience. God places you on a path where doors open and doors close. One path might lead to happiness, one to change, another to pain. One leads you closer to you goals, one takes you further.
I’m not pretty, but I had always had a banging body—(God portions his gifts). From the time I was about 12, I was always the hottest chick in class. It’s easy for me to be sexy. It’s easy for me to manipulate with my sexuality. I have a black belt in flirting; I’ve learned to temper it. Today, I’m torn between having a great body or not. Having a great body gets you sex; it doesn’t get you loved. It’s not even a compliment when a guy tells me how hot I am—it means absolutely nothing—like someone telling me that my eyes are green. BUT when I think about the fact that I’ve gained weight as a result of unhappiness, I have to admit, that I’ve squandered a gift. The women that I know that are unhappy in relationships are all overweight—every single one of them found comfort in food that they weren’t finding in the arms of a man. So it’s a catch 22. If you’re overweight, you don’t attract a man, when you’re thin you attract attention but not the kind that you want; so you become heartbroken and eat only to push away the men who could potentially give you exactly what you’re looking for. There is a power in beauty if you know exactly how to use it.
And I beheld that beauty…a few years of art history appreciation had me realize that every culture has its own kind standard and that time brings its own standard to the fore. I’ve recently read some of Shmuley Boteach’s books—(I’m just about ready to start my fourth); he frequently talks about a lack of sensuality in today’s sexuality.
One hundred years ago women who were robust and fleshy were the most desirous—it was the sensual experience of the softness and suppleness of her body that made her opposed to a man’s rugged muscularity and hardness. It was the seduction of the differences to the differences that made a woman alluring. Even today, in parts of North Africa, a heavy woman is the social standard for having one hot babe on your arm.
I had an email today from a girlfriend in Spain. She’s by any standard a Slovak beauty. She told me she had gotten heavy (me too) and that she realized that everywhere she had lived in the U.S. and Europe when she was unhappy, she gained weight. When she was happy again, she lost it. I’ve thought about that today and she’s right, I’ve had the same experience.
A year ago I was at the gym twice a day, some cardio and weights in the morning, back for a zumba dance class at night. For all of the years that I took dance classes—from modern to belly dancing, I didn’t know how much I would love Latin rhythms—and I do. I don’t speak a word of Spanish, and wish I could sing along…but I can’t. The closest I’ve come is that I did have an invitation today from her to come spend some time with her in Spain…she’ll be happy to read that I’m thinking about it…
I went to the gym and ran into one of my old zumba classmates. One of them said to me “since that guy, you haven’t been the same—when are you coming back?” She was right, too. In the last year, I’ve lost a part of my spirit. I thought about my friend in Spain and how right now she’s in a relationship with a great guy and it’s not enough. She said it wasn’t about him, but confusion within herself; that he’s an amazing guy and would be sad to leave him but she doesn’t really feel fulfilled since leaving the U.S. a couple of years ago. She’s missing the comfort of closeness of friends or family even though he’s perfectly compatible and wonderful to her.
That led me to thinking about 'that guy' and gifts. It is a gift for someone to offer you friendship. The older you get, the less likely it is you make friends; acquaintances, yes. Maybe you share one particular interest—or you work with someone that you spend some time with outside of the office, but someone you can share the intimacies of your life with, a real friend, someone that you bond with is a completely different story.
Do they squander a gift when someone chooses not want you as a friend? I feel that it is so. It’s interesting to me because at the same time I offered ‘that guy’ friendship and he turn away from it, he claimed that he was lonely. Depression: internalized anger masquerading as loneliness. I always say that people come into your life for a reason. Sometimes the reason is for you; sometimes the reason is for them. People wonder what the meaning of life is…experience. Life is about experience. God places you on a path where doors open and doors close. One path might lead to happiness, one to change, another to pain. One leads you closer to you goals, one takes you further.
I’m not pretty, but I had always had a banging body—(God portions his gifts). From the time I was about 12, I was always the hottest chick in class. It’s easy for me to be sexy. It’s easy for me to manipulate with my sexuality. I have a black belt in flirting; I’ve learned to temper it. Today, I’m torn between having a great body or not. Having a great body gets you sex; it doesn’t get you loved. It’s not even a compliment when a guy tells me how hot I am—it means absolutely nothing—like someone telling me that my eyes are green. BUT when I think about the fact that I’ve gained weight as a result of unhappiness, I have to admit, that I’ve squandered a gift. The women that I know that are unhappy in relationships are all overweight—every single one of them found comfort in food that they weren’t finding in the arms of a man. So it’s a catch 22. If you’re overweight, you don’t attract a man, when you’re thin you attract attention but not the kind that you want; so you become heartbroken and eat only to push away the men who could potentially give you exactly what you’re looking for. There is a power in beauty if you know exactly how to use it.
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