mixing colours

lately i have been thinking a lot about that time in elementary school...

unequal blobs of paint sprawled out in front of me.

young, spry, eager, and a whole lot of shy.

we sat at the table in the big art room.

i always liked this room but i was equally intimidated by it.

i, as a child, was an awful artist.

i could not colour in the lines if my little life depended on it.

i tried and i tried again.

each time, i failed.

so when it was time for me to venture into this art room, i felt like an impostor.

here i sat, with blobs of paint on brown construction paper.

the task? mix colours. find new colours.

green and blue make yellow

red and white make pink

pink and blue make purple

and on and on we went. fingers filthy, minds working oh so hard. masters of colour.

now i appreciate the brilliance of it. the mixing. the discovery. the shove to learn on your own.

now that i am shoved into the time of life where people start demanding

pick one thing to do

pick one person to be with

reproduce.

now i crave to be back in that room, fingers covered in paint, mixing colours to my desire.

there was something so holy about that time. encouraged acts of messiness. acts of mixing norms to create new norms.

how i wish to be back.

the truth

i have this tenuous relationship with beauty.
sometimes i grasp it and other times, it grasps me.
and in those times, when i play the slave, i sink.
i have not felt beautiful as of late.

i approach this subject with absolute caution
like a cat approaching it's prey.
steadily, sneakily and with a confidence that proves i have been here before.

aye, i have.

people assume that if i say these words

i feel fat

that i must be irrational.
i must be capable of harming myself.
i must suffer from distortion.

none of this is true.

i feel fat
i am aware that i am not fat.
but that does not mean that i cannot feel fat.
the body and the mind are different entities that try to work as one.
some days mine try very hard.

and when i say these words,
i do not want rebuttals. i do not believe them.
i do not want frustration. i am frustrated too.
i do not want recognition, really.
i just want them said.

i just want people to know why i am here but elsewhere simultaneously.
i just want someone to know that some mornings it is hard to get out of bed.
but that i do it anyway.

in these times, i reach out and grab a book.
a book about women, a book that praises beauty in all of it's forms.
there is a paragraph that never fails to pick me back up.
i read it.

and then i read it again.
and hope with everything i have left, that tomorrow will be better.

on beauty

some time ago i wandered into a classroom.
and there sat a woman. and i, appeased by her beauty, was stunned.
i deemed this woman one of the most beautiful women i have seen.
i quickly noticed her boots. and because i had to know…

where did you get those boots?! i love them.

oh these? my friend bought them at value village for seven dollars and gave them to me when she moved, she said between chomping away on an apple.

swoon.

she was not wearing an ounce of makeup. nor was she beautiful by the societal values we place upon beauty.
she was not particularly thin and not particularly large either
she was blonde but a natural sun-streaked blonde
she was freckled
she didn’t even shave her legs.
but she glowed. My god, did she glow.
part of this was due to the fact that she had just bicycled to this destination.
that post-bicycle sweat. but more so than any of that,

she was happy. she was so gosh darn happy.

i have been pondering beauty a lot as of late.
beauty.
the thing that decides how we feel about ourselves that particular day.

am i beautiful today? no? well maybe tomorrow i will be beautiful.

the thing that young women of our generation obsess over.

am i beautiful?

it doesn’t matter that they are intelligent, kind, powerful little beings
and that their sense of moral justice outshines the sun on the brightest summer days.
no.
if they are not beautiful, if they do not possess beauty then they believe they are nothing.
i was one of these critters. spry and fresh, bopping around life trying to find a place.
any place as long i looked beautiful in it.
people would meet me and say “your job must be being beautiful”and i would happily comply.
forgetting that i was kind, smart, dedicated and caring. forgetting that i was so able to do many things. forgetting that i was able to read a novel with an acute eye for wrong-doing. forgetting that, even then, i was able to hold down my own in a debate
i forgot. And i only focused on one thing: being beautiful.

it didn’t take long to realize that beauty was something i would never possess.
not the society-based ideal.

i dyed my hair. i tanned to a red crisp. i bought make up. and more make up. i dieted. i weighed myself. i bought clothes for the sake of buying clothes. for the sake of being beautiful. i still felt inept. *

finally.
i gave up. not wholly. there are still days, times, moments of days, where i look in the mirror and think

who have i let down today? i don’t look beautiful.

but i am working on it. always working towards this thing called inner beauty. the only kind of beauty i am sure of. the only thing i – myself – can possess. it is tangible. and it is mine. now i am able to leave my hair naturally itself and let the sun do with it what it will. i am able to run, bike and do yoga because it makes me happy. not because it makes my hips shrink. there are days i forgo make up all together because i want to. and there are days i apply a quick coat of mascara because i want to. but i never depend on these things to make me happy. i know better. if i want happy, i look for it in other places.

a book. my garden. a great soup. a debate where i use every intellectual cell i have in my body. a yoga practice. a chance to praise my body however big or small it may be. a cup of tea. a cozy sweater. a bike ride. finding that certain je ne sais quoi in people. beet greens. i do not care to be beautiful.
i care to be happy. the beauty will follow suit.

one of the most beautiful girls in the world rolled out her yoga mat right beside mine yesterday.
i believe i willed her there. i thought so intently about this all for so long, she eventually found her way back into my life.
it was thrilling to move beside her, both of us loving our bodies in their imperfect ways.
and after, i felt happy.
and, if i do say so myself, dewy with fresh sweat

i felt beautiful.


*i'm not saying that every woman who engages in these activities is seeking beauty. for some people, these things make them happy. go be happy.

musings

one.

pickle brine is overwhelming, tantalizing and tangy, an overall unbeatable melange.

two.

just when you think you have plucked all the apples one could possibly scavenge, you find a whole branch more drooping with round, juicy possibilities.

three.

morning soup dates are not only vital to a productive work day but necessary to a better life.

four.

beet greens have never been more scrumptious.

five.

never underestimate an extra 5 minutes of sleep.

with that, you now know what my week has been like.

how was yours?