Sexy and I Know It!

NaBloPoMo asks today…

Is someone hot forever once they're labeled hot? Or is hotness fleeting?

 
    When you are hot you’re hot, and when you are not, you’re not.   The state of looking hot is a lot like beauty and strictly in the eye of the beholder.  There are some folks, like me, that never reach the status of hot all their lives.  The most we can ever achieve is “cute”.   I have never in the history of time had someone look at me and said “Damn girl, you are hot!!!”  If they did, I seriously would have looked at them and figured they either needed new glasses or their head examined.  It is a state of mind and being.  Yell out “I’m sexy and I know it” to the masses and they are going to laugh themselves silly or chances are someone out there is going to believe it.  Check it out…because you got their attention!

      Some folks will do everything in their power to be hot even resorting to plastic surgery.  They pour thousands into Botox and lifts here and there until it gets to the point they no longer look like themselves.  They will hold onto youth with both hands and plastic surgeons make a killing on these people.  The sad part is instead of looking better; many times they become a grotesque version of themselves and become addicted to the process.  What disgusts me the most about plastic surgery is that it essentially screws with the cosmic universe and what God intended in the first place.  

  

     With all that said, hotness is fleeting.  If you have it when you are young, you are really lucky if you retain it as you grow older.  Often if you weren’t hot, you can sometimes obtain a level of hotness with a healthy dose of attitude.  A healthy dose of self-confidence goes a long way to being hot in my humble opinion.  Some folks grow hotter as they age.  They get better with time just like a fine wine.  Again I think that has a lot to do with that whole attitude and confidence factor.

      Why does it matter if you are hot or not?  Does hotness mean flaunting what you have and wearing as little as possible?  In some people’s minds, probably, but the bottom line is…hotness is determined on an individual basis and always in the eye of the beholder.  Walk the walk, dress the part, and get the moves…or simply be you. It is whatever works.  After careful muddling through this concept I have determined it is all about attitude and personality.   If all else fails pour some jalapenos on it and crank the heat to full blast.  If that doesn’t heat you up, nothing else will.

Beautiful or Not?

NaBloPoMo asks:

Do you think there is a collective definition of beauty or is it always in the eye of the beholder?

     I firmly believe that there is no collective definition of beauty.  Beauty is subjective to each person’s personal opinion and is always in the eye of the beholder.  That is one of the things that bothered me most when I spent the better share of my time devoted to my art.  Just because I thought my work was good didn’t mean anyone else would think so.  Just like beauty, its worth or the question of whether it was good or not was up to whoever was looking at it.  

     It amazes me how superficial beauty is and how people can judge others first by their appearance.  Sure someone may be beautiful outside but be a complete conceited a$$hole inside.  On the other hand, a person might be physically plain but once a person gets to know them their true beauty is revealed by their personalities and their goodness.   I believe that is why there is someone for everyone. 

      While some things on the earth could fall into a collective definition of beauty such as landscapes, beaches, sunsets, and flowers, most other things are strictly beautiful in the eyes of the beholder until next time when I give you another glimpse into another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

You’re Beautiful-BFF 215

     Before I started school I had little doubt in my mind that I was beautiful because my mom told me all the time.  She loved me.  I was her little girl and I was beautiful to her.  Once I reached school I discovered that I wasn’t the rest of the world’s idea of beautiful, and quite honestly the truth of it hurt.
     

     As I got older my classmates let me know in no uncertain terms that I was ugly.  I believed them.  I looked in the mirror and believed every single word. I was too short.  I had four eyes.  I had braces on my teeth and my front teeth had failed to appear thanks to a too small palette and cruel twist of fate.  Because of these flaws few of them took the time to get to know me.  It probably wasn’t considered cool to be seen with me. At least that is what I imagined.  What few friends I found moved on as soon as boys noticed they existed.  I was teased, ridiculed, and made fun of.  Sadly I believed everything they said. 

        At the time I remember getting a book that was titled how to become beautiful or something like it.  It basically held between its pages beauty tips on how to make your hair shine and have flawless skin.  I tried every trick in the book and still it didn’t help me.  Years later while visiting a salon for a new style the stylist pulled out a can of Sexy Hair.  When a few sprays of that didn’t seem to do the job she left and returned with an economy sized can.  I had learned my lessons well.  I told her it didn’t matter if she emptied a vat of the stuff on my head I still wouldn’t be sexy or beautiful.  She didn’t know what to say to that but had the good sense not to attempt to sell me a can of the stuff.

       During my school years I felt invisible.  People would say hello back when I said hello to them and then they would go on their merry way leaving me alone.  By the time a guy noticed I existed and told me he thought I was beautiful I had become forever jaded certain that something surely had to be drastically wrong with him to think so.  Still there was that girl deep inside who hoped he really felt that way.  It turned out there was a lot wrong with him.  He was an alcoholic and a wife beater.  Lucky me to have nabbed his happy butt!  I was even luckier when he decided to leave without a backwards glance.

        When I married again I found a man who really did love me.  When he looked into my eyes I felt beautiful.  It didn’t matter a tinker’s damn that no one else did.  He did, and that is all that mattered.  On our wedding day I found the prettiest dress I could  and when I gazed into his eyes I finally felt beautiful.  I believed it to be true.  I knew in my heart he loved me, and I loved him in return.  When the wedding pictures came back I proudly took them off to work to share them with my co-workers knowing that for the first time in my life not only did I feel I looked good in those pictures but I was even fooled into thinking I was beautiful if only for that moment.  

        I worked with the lady I had chosen for my matron of honor and as she was looking at my wedding pictures another co worker came up and started going on and on about how beautiful my friend looked in my wedding pictures.  I was the bride for crying out loud, but once again I felt as if even on the most important day of my life when I was sure I had been beautiful I obviously had not been.  Since when is the matron of honor more beautiful than the bride?  I mean what the hell!!  I snatched my photo album away and went back to my desk devastated.

     Does beauty really matter all that much?  Is it really necessary to spend thousands of dollars to have bigger boobs and perfection if deep inside you are an evil bitch to everyone you meet?  It must matter to some or plastic surgeons wouldn’t be making a fortune.  Still beauty to me goes far deeper.  It is kindness and genuine smiles.  It is exhibited best in those who love no matter what without conditions, someone who treats everyone exactly the same no matter what.  True beauty comes even more apparent when you delve deeper than outward appearances and really discover a kind loving person within.  Wouldn’t it be wonderful if people knew this instinctively from the get go  that everyone is beautiful in their own special way?  If only,  until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.

F is for Flowers

   
       Even though I have been plagued with allergies since I was small, I have always loved flowers.  They paint the world with vibrant color and fill the air with heavenly fragrance.  Regardless of the fact that some flowers cause my eyes to water and floodgates in my nose to open, I never avoid them.  I approach flowers the same way I live happily with dogs and cats, armed with Benedryl.  Considering I am allergic to everything but cockroaches, I have little choice but to pop a pill and get on with life and enjoy.

        Flowers have so many meanings but in essence relay love and beauty.  People use them to beautify weddings, their homes, honor someone who they hold great affection for, or honor the dead.  The delicate blooms and heady fragrance is one thing that makes life worth living.  They grace springtime, summer, and fall teasing small children who love to pick them.  Bees hover over them in reckless abandon carrying out their mission of pollination.

        Flowers whisper sentiments to the deepest chambers of the heart.  From “I love you” to “I miss you” to “I adore you”, flowers say it all without any words ever being spoken.  I rarely receive flowers, but when I do I cherish them all the more.  It doesn’t matter that they will wilt and die.  The affection they represent makes them even more valuable to me and I will enjoy them as long as I am able.

       Whether stripping each delicate petal to figure out another’s devotion whispering “he loves me, he loves me not” or simply transforming a place into one that is easier on the eyes, I absolutely love flowers!!  I mean really, who doesn’t just LOVE flowers??  Some will never admit it and some will deny it, but you got to love flowers until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.