Beauty is for looking at
No matter what others say.
If the visage is not beautiful
They will not be looking your way.
Trust me on this.
The beauty of today is slim and straight
And hardly any curves
Unless you are selling underwear
With wings attached.
Trust me on this.
Skin is flawless
Lips are full-ish
Lashes are grotesquely long-ish
And hair is flowing, flowing
Past the shoulders in lustrous waves
Of rippling brown (no longer blonde-mostly)
Trust me on this.
And those of us who are
Or never have been willowy
Our hair is short, our stature shorter
Our underwear white and serviceable
Without wings or even possibly lace
Watch in haunted shadows
The passing of those long, cool drinks of water
Sometimes with a lump of envy
Sometimes with a note of irony
And mostly with a wonder, what if
Trust me on this.
We populate the daytime
With mini-vans
Small economy cars full of groceries
And love and angst
And fierce pride in our broods
We do not pout, nor whine, or expect roses
Or even dinner out (except maybe once a year).
We are real, those without the visual beauty
And we are beautiful to one another
We recognize each other
Even if not in some man’s fantasy.
Trust me on this.
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