im glad im not beautiful.
no really i am. this past few weeks ive been stuck sitting in the car, waiting, observing peoples behaviours. ive noticed the women who are percieved as conventionally beautiful, seemed to be self-concious. the blondes, with full make-up, and with the tingy orange face, nails that could do damage, clothes that are extremely expensive, their small kids running along side them, and the mum preoccupied with some such stuff. ( yesterday i saw a mum with her little toddler, she was walking around the park with an i-pod in!)
what ive noticed they seem so self-concious. a line in one of jack johnsons songs ' they seem so awkward with their things', comes to mind. they seem awkward with themselves.
being awkward with things. two or so years ago i was in brighton, along the marina, a man in a huge bentley with a wife as described above and two kids, was approaching his car, all he did was look around to see who was looking, not messing around with the kids, just taking a peek around. as they all climbed in, they all did the same. its was cringe worthy awkward.
i was never told that i was pretty as a kid. i was the clever one. the bright brainbox. although i never felt that way. i was a book worm. and ive travelled through life thinking i was deficient in some way. until observing others behaviours, seeing their self-concious faces, like they cant relax in case? in case what? they wake up one morning at fifty and see what they havent got anymore.
i now think im average, ordinary, i have other talents which give my mind pleasure. im slowly working through this. if only anxiety would be so easy to crack!