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I Watched Her Move…

I watched her move.
The way she interacted delicately and laughed free of inhibition.

I caught glimpses of her as she completed tasks and I thought of the way men must view her.
Like, some sort of unicorn, so beautiful that it can’t be real.

KK (36 of 69)bw

I looked at her face.
Every feature seemed to be placed with great thought.
The longer I stared the more beauty I found in every curve and crevice.
She was art.

I questioned my own features.
Would I be lovelier if my nose turned up just a bit more?
Is beauty found in the kind of body that can wear cut off shorts?

Has anyone ever looked that deeply at me?

I found myself admiring her and envying her at the same time.
This stranger’s looks held what I deemed perfection.
In a way that many women’s do.

I’m quick to find beauty, especially in another.
But, I feel unbearably normal.

Less than captivating.

It’s a great place that I’ve come to where I no longer hate myself.

But, as Elie Wiesel says, “The opposite of love is not hate,  it’s indifference.”

I may no longer hate the way I look.
But, do I delight in it?
I feel so outrageously ordinary.

I thought of that and I wondered if this beauty that I admired had any idea.
Did she know she was spectacular?
Or did she end her days questioning her thighs and wondering if anyone had ever really looked at her.

with love,

Sarajane.

Briar DeHaven - June 24, 2014 - 12:35 pm

From someone who doesn’t know you very well, I think you’re one of the least ordinary people I’ve ever admired from afar.

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