Beauty Or Beast

Beloved studied me as I slowly turned in a circle for him.  The wrinkle between his brows was definitely wrinkling meaning that this outfit was also doomed to be cast aside as unworthy of the event.  So far the five outfits I had tried on and deemed appropriate had been discounted by him for a variety of reasons.  Some days it’s hard for me to believe that I can even dress myself for every day outings.

I never use to be this unsure of clothing, fashion or myself.  Lupus, though, has a way of keeping me humble.  My weight and figure has changed repeatedly with medications required to fight lupus.  My body carries the scars of various medical interventions from this disease as well.  And somewhere along the lines my confidence has slipped off as quickly as the lupus rash slips on my face.

So I twirled and modeled and hated every minute of it.  Hated the way I was so self-conscious and how Beloved would shake his head and tell me that the stuff I was worried about could not even be noticed in this or that.  I was leaning towards a turtleneck top with long sleeves and pants.  He shook back his head and insisted I consider the loose and almost gauze-like shirt to go with a smaller top.  He relented on the pants though.

I watched him bite back the words he wanted to say, the words he said so many times before.  He would tell me that I was beautiful, that no one could see the damage from this illness. That for the moment I would look like every other woman, beautiful.  But lupus doesn’t make me feel beautiful.  I know warriors and survivors can be beautiful.  But I feel like I’m covered in dirt and wounds and sweat and much as I fight this illness in the trenches.  And I don’t think I will ever be beautiful again.

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Hobbies of Horrible Ideas

There are some things  make you wonder what the heck were they thinking when they did that.  Things you just can’t fathom yourself doing, or perhaps any rational person doing.

one of the things I cannot fathom is the Victorian honouring of their dead.  I can’t imagine how they decided it was grand idea to take photos of the dead, to use human hair as a frame for the photos, I just don’t grasp the need for that.  Perhaps because  I hold memories more dear and I guess because photographs are common enough these days.

i also do not understand the Victorian taxidermy approach either.  Granted taxidermy and I arent anything more than nodding acquaintances.  But taking dead rodents, posing them in various stages of action and dressing them up in basically doll clothes?  Yes I cannot begin to imagine why that was seen as a good idea.

Beloved suggests it is because I don’t have a great deal of spare time myself so I can’t understand wha it would be like to need to fill that time, to find a way to entertain myself for hours n end.  Granted hen hs a friend wh  is in to toy trains big time.  His friends as trains running all throughout his house, complete with wee towns set up and fields of toy cows to mired past as well.  Again I do not understand this, but as Beloved pointed out, I do not have enough spare time to allow myself to fill up with these things.

if  had spare time I’d fill it up with reading or coursework because that’s what thrills me I guess.  Although I’m beginning to wonder if I would be granted special rights if I started to collect dead hamsters and such and set them up in various tableaux!  Heck I’d grant myself special rights if I did this.  Special rights to a long vacation in a padded room.  Because it’s just not me.