Friday, January 15, 2010

Aesthetic Impact

Strangely, I'm as happy with my body now as I've ever been, perhaps mainly because I look better than many women in my age group, better than many younger women, too. The parts of my body that still annoy me--the soft upper thighs, the puckery loose skin that will never get smooth and tight (never was smooth and tight) hardly matter, since, once clothed, no one else sees that. I've also almost completely purged myself of the ingrained notion (ingrained by whom? more on that later) that I must look good to others. That "they" (whoever they are) don't want to see my bulging thighs, my jutting butt. Maybe they don't. They don't have to look. Those overweight guys who squat down and flash their nasty hairy ass cracks never worry about the aesthetic impact of their actions. Why should I? Especially now, when I am entering the invisible phase of my life. Not that I was all that visible even as a young woman.
I had been one of the many unremarkable young women. The herd of equally unremarkable men briefly scanned my outline and dismissed me, before focusing on one of the few remarkably beautiful girls. How could I not take that as a slight at the time? How glad I am to have left the meat market realm of high school, college, dating! My positive attributes do not ride the surface of my skin.

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