Beauty and the COLOR.

I have a bunch of weirdness to me.  awkwardness. self-consciousness. unconsciousness. subconsciousness.

when i’m asked to think about beauty as it relates to my own body and how i move through the more social world (other, actual people involved) … I have a couple of distinct approaches to my own ‘style’ as it were.

and i’m not entirely sure that it’ll resonate with anyone, but i really hope it does… because it would be good to know that my quirk has company…

so here we go: i introduce parts of me, as they relate to physical presentation to the world, beauty-like…

  1.  baglady.  lots of layers. colors, prints, skater pants have been replaced by leggings in my middle-age, warm wool hat and glasses…lollipop body, really…bulk…always glasses… today i got my trifocals … no joke. 1022181439

ITs not that pretty, its not sexy, there is no way that anyone looking at me is thinking… ooooh, i wanna tap that.

and probably, they are a little confused.  Today at Home Depot, there was a lot of confusion. my purple socks followed by my blue vans and my black leggings. . . i mean, even for me, it was a fuckit day, fashion wise, but i was warm and comfy and really, all the rest of it can fly to flypaper.

so there’s that.

2.  then there’s an undercurrent of great great awareness of curve.  man, how i love my body.  and i want to touch it in front of people.  (i do… but really, fully guffaw)… and i’m filled all up with the sexiness. like burbling over with delight and hormone.  i tell you, the pheremones are real, when i’m in this space, i can feel every man for miles sniffing the air.


3. Thirdly, but not lastly because there is always so much more.

Here we have the me that is still trying and failing to fit in. To look like the other soccer moms, to wear the bad jeans, to have brushed hair, maybe makeup… there is such an active part of me that wants to blend in… be invisible, i think.   Maybe if i hide like that, I will appear more successful somehow, and yes, i deeply see the irony, but it is nonetheless true to me, this dichotomy.

and guess what? there is no photo to show, no ‘invisibility’ to share.

because not even I can break that invisibility.  so here i am, visible.  and thats it, i think i’m done with the vanity…expunged. and now i go back into my cave and wait til spring.

0906180758 maybe i’m a bear.


6 thoughts on “Beauty and the COLOR.”

  1. No, you are not alone, but I have a fourth “type”to add; I imagine my self as a combination of a small furry woodland creature, hence the over reliance on wool in all seasons, combine with a vague desire to look as if I might have come from another century. Enjoying the longest menopause in history, ten years and going strong, I find I’m not particularly concerned with how men relate to me, as the growing crone in me could probably turn them all into toads, so I don’t particularly care what they think about how I look. And then there’s the time issue, how fast can I get clean and dressed so I can begin my 26 hour day? Keep writing. I like the way you put things.

    1. oh yeah… there is that nestling in to chrone… i have that, without the menopause yet, so its more mixed… my chrone is a little bit dominant in the sexual way … but yes, yes to this woodland creature… maybe thats what my baglady of color really is…

Leave me your words! thoughts! sweat, blood, and tears not really needed but okay, if you want... :)

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.