Further thought will probably appear in my own LJ.
I was the one talking about pretty, and I sorta feel like I didn't make myself clear, or perhaps like I focussed too much on the competitive thing, which is not actually a frequent state of mind for me. It's not like I gaze anxiously in the mirror every day, fearing each grey hair, each line on my face, and lamenting the loss of my youthful bloom. It's not like I spend hours on my clothes and hair every morning, getting every detail right, or as if I'm terrified at social gatherings that someone will be prettier than I.
In context, I was talking about guilty pleasures, and saying that I feel guilty for taking pleasure in the way I have learned, over time, to use my appearance as a tool and sometimes as an offensive weapon.
I don't think that pretty is a measure of any sort of value beyond that of the ability of the form I wear, to give pleasure to a large number of people.
I'd have to be really unobservant not to notice the way people respond to how I look, or really stubborn in my own modesty or humility to think that the random strangers who tell me I'm lovely all had ulterior motives, or were simply being kind, or were touched in the head.
I grew up receiving the mixed message that beauty is skin deep, that one's intellect, integrity, and competence were what mattered, on the one hand, but that beauty was eminently desirable, on the other. I, who was not, by any stretch, deemed attractive by my peers, embraced the notion that beauty was shallow, that I shouldn't take any pleasure in it, and that my brain and skills were what counted.
As I grew up, I noticed that people responded favourably to my appearance. I noticed that in certain contexts, appearance did count for something. I noticed that I took pleasure in the positive attention I garnered, even though I really wanted it to be from people I respected, and I took as much or more pleasure from how they responded to the things I had to say.
It's not, I hope, that I'm going to turn into some Wicked Queen, afraid of and hostile towards anyone younger and prettier. In general, I take a lot of pleasure (non creepy, I hope) in watching youth and beauty: there's often an unselfconscious grace and loveliness that I know I'll never have again. It's lovely that this exists in the world.
Mostly, I don't feel competitive. I just feel pleased when people respond positively. Sometimes I do feel competitive—usually when I'm feeling insecure about something and I know that looks are the easiest tool to use to bolster my self-confidence.
Sometimes I feel intellectually competitive too. I want to feel smart. I want to be noticed for the things I have to say. Most times, I'm secure enough in my own self not to worry, to just go into a situation and be me and do the things I'm there to do, and enjoy what other people have to say and offer. And when someone compliments me on something I've said or done, I'm flattered and happy.
Usually, intellectual competitiveness also means that I'm feeling insecure about something.
I take a lot of pleasure from others' wit, intellect, charm, and good nature. I don't choose my friends, co-workers, lovers, or companions based on their looks, even though I'm, in general, happy about my own.
I hope I have something to offer besides a pretty face and a decent figure (and nice hair). I'm hoping that as I age I'll like myself well enough and be happy enough with what I can do to feel cheerful and confident.
I am neither a beauty for the ages nor a genius of staggering proportions, nor the most enjoyable person in the world with whom to spend time. But I fortunate enough to have certain gifts, and I generally try to use them in ways that do some good—that bring people pleasure, or get a job done, or share a skill, or tease understanding out of something obscure. Sometimes I take a guilty pleasure in being better at some things than other people, and that's not very nice or worthy, but it's true.
I admire, intensely, people who are comfortable in their skins, in their minds, in their selves.Nothing is more attractive than someone who is at peace with who they are, no matter what their shape may be.
Lots to say here, maybe some relevant
I was the one talking about pretty, and I sorta feel like I didn't make myself clear, or perhaps like I focussed too much on the competitive thing, which is not actually a frequent state of mind for me. It's not like I gaze anxiously in the mirror every day, fearing each grey hair, each line on my face, and lamenting the loss of my youthful bloom. It's not like I spend hours on my clothes and hair every morning, getting every detail right, or as if I'm terrified at social gatherings that someone will be prettier than I.
In context, I was talking about guilty pleasures, and saying that I feel guilty for taking pleasure in the way I have learned, over time, to use my appearance as a tool and sometimes as an offensive weapon.
I don't think that pretty is a measure of any sort of value beyond that of the ability of the form I wear, to give pleasure to a large number of people.
I'd have to be really unobservant not to notice the way people respond to how I look, or really stubborn in my own modesty or humility to think that the random strangers who tell me I'm lovely all had ulterior motives, or were simply being kind, or were touched in the head.
I grew up receiving the mixed message that beauty is skin deep, that one's intellect, integrity, and competence were what mattered, on the one hand, but that beauty was eminently desirable, on the other. I, who was not, by any stretch, deemed attractive by my peers, embraced the notion that beauty was shallow, that I shouldn't take any pleasure in it, and that my brain and skills were what counted.
As I grew up, I noticed that people responded favourably to my appearance. I noticed that in certain contexts, appearance did count for something. I noticed that I took pleasure in the positive attention I garnered, even though I really wanted it to be from people I respected, and I took as much or more pleasure from how they responded to the things I had to say.
It's not, I hope, that I'm going to turn into some Wicked Queen, afraid of and hostile towards anyone younger and prettier. In general, I take a lot of pleasure (non creepy, I hope) in watching youth and beauty: there's often an unselfconscious grace and loveliness that I know I'll never have again. It's lovely that this exists in the world.
Mostly, I don't feel competitive. I just feel pleased when people respond positively. Sometimes I do feel competitive—usually when I'm feeling insecure about something and I know that looks are the easiest tool to use to bolster my self-confidence.
Sometimes I feel intellectually competitive too. I want to feel smart. I want to be noticed for the things I have to say. Most times, I'm secure enough in my own self not to worry, to just go into a situation and be me and do the things I'm there to do, and enjoy what other people have to say and offer. And when someone compliments me on something I've said or done, I'm flattered and happy.
Usually, intellectual competitiveness also means that I'm feeling insecure about something.
I take a lot of pleasure from others' wit, intellect, charm, and good nature. I don't choose my friends, co-workers, lovers, or companions based on their looks, even though I'm, in general, happy about my own.
I hope I have something to offer besides a pretty face and a decent figure (and nice hair). I'm hoping that as I age I'll like myself well enough and be happy enough with what I can do to feel cheerful and confident.
I am neither a beauty for the ages nor a genius of staggering proportions, nor the most enjoyable person in the world with whom to spend time. But I fortunate enough to have certain gifts, and I generally try to use them in ways that do some good—that bring people pleasure, or get a job done, or share a skill, or tease understanding out of something obscure. Sometimes I take a guilty pleasure in being better at some things than other people, and that's not very nice or worthy, but it's true.
I admire, intensely, people who are comfortable in their skins, in their minds, in their selves.Nothing is more attractive than someone who is at peace with who they are, no matter what their shape may be.