The Fairest One of All

The other day I had brunch with a friend, and for the sake of story I’ll just call him Buddy. Buddy and I get together from time to time to catch up and reminisce about our past lives. Buddy is a friend I acquired a couple of years ago in adulthood through a series of random events that didn’t include a class project, a social networking event, or a church group. Buddy and I met in the trenches of a call center part time hustle, and while soliciting the opinions of good old Americans, we bonded over books and twenty-something brokeness.

So anyway, we are eating and having a time that’s good, when he updates me on the plight of his best friend who has recently experienced a devastating breakup. Her former dude has caused her to go all “Crazy Chick” because he essentially broke up with her without rhyme or reason. And in her breakup grief she has been on suicide watch. In anger has driven, with a female friend in tow, to his job…all without resolution to their three year relationship. Buddy then explained that now she is convinced that there is something wrong with her, and therefore there is something that she needs to change. And no, she isn’t thinking of the let this all go and let God variety… More like the “Doctor, more tits and ass please. And could you also throw in some lypo for good measure?”

Oh no! Hell Naw!

I said Buddy, did you tell her ain’t no nigga worth that?! He nodded, then shrugged. Because really what could he say, she’s already decided that is her solution. *Sigh* But the whole thing got me thinking about plastic surgery and how the idea has crossed my mind as a solution, but the outcome weighted against the needless risk I pretty have decided I'm not trying to undergo surgery just cause.

Looking back at childhood photographs I can say that I was one funny looking kid! I am so thankful for time and new gene expression because things weren’t looking so good for the home team! My older male cousin once told me that when comparing me to my other female cousins, he and my grandma (that mean old lady) had concluded that it was a good thing that I was at least smart. And that conversation led me down the rabbit hole of recollection where I don’t ever remember my parents fawning over my looks or even saying that I was beautiful. My father, and extremely intelligent man, told me that he believed that I was much smarter that he…and I remember being extremely pleased with that.

And so I don’t know what the lack of praise in my youth has done for my outlook on all things vain. It stands to reason that I should have a complex of some sort. But I will say that as my hair grew, and the braces came off, and the breasts grew bigger than my belly it was a pleasant shock as the old ladies started to say I was looking more and more like my mother, and less and less like my father. Thank the Lawd! For real ya'll!

But I’m aware that my outcome could have been different and my transition from a funny looking kid could have been to that of an ugly woman. And as a woman it’s difficult to exist in America if you don’t think you are beautiful. A few years ago I remember MTV had a show that allowed youngsters to undergo plastic surgery to look like their favorite pop culture idol. And I often wanted to know if they thought it was worth the pain and the risk, and how they feel about their decision today?

I think about what Buddy’s friend will do when ole boy still doesn’t want her or even to give her a reason to why they didn’t work out. What then? When I’m not looking in the mirror I feel like I’m pretty much the same smart little Amaretto who enjoys reading and puppies. And of course there is plenty of room for improvement but as cliché as it sounds, I am really of the thinking that it’s what folks got on the inside that's beautiful, and so therefore I am.

See You In Seven