“Pretty, I feel pretty…”
I never related to this tuneful phrase until after my cancer diagnosis, with its treatment and trials, not the least of which was discovering that I was not included with ‘them’. Triple bad and ugly.
It was very difficult to assimilate that. Until I truly figured out the dance and let it spin away, I walled myself in a small place deep within. My heart beat was thin as an unsecured snare, not solid and tympanic. My husband and friends helped me to feel safe and to expand mind, body, and spirit. No wonder I’d full force fled 2000 miles from ‘them’, subservient to one’s emotional whims. Before that I lived in the deep space of books.
The first unbidden compliment came from a woman I didn’t even know, at a charity event. She came up to whisper, “You’re a very pretty woman.” I looked up, startled, as the face of my angel, before she disappeared into the crowd. I never saw her again that night at the gala. If she wasn’t an angel, she was a very good witch, for I was fully dazzled, transformed. You never know how or where God will speak.
Since that event I’ve often been told that I am pretty – by my husband,who is demonstrative in deed but not in word – and by many other people. It must be the inner glow of knowing that I am loved. I am cherished. I am. I choose to whom I listen for validation.
“Pretty is as pretty does”, my mother said; beauty is beyond skin deep, so don’t let ‘them’ get under your skin.