Beauty lies in the eye of the beholder.
What does the violet know or care that I look at her and my heart overflows? "So beautiful," I sigh and she has no response.
Yesterday, after a night in Hell, Love conspired to bring deep healing to my troubled soul. Marcie brought flowers and incense and Carnival decorations to put a little Mardi Gras cheer in my home. We went out to search for cigarettes--American Spirit Regular Full-Bodied Taste...who sells these in Gulfport? The clerk at the smoke shop where I've once purchased my brand could not stop looking at me. "You are beautiful," she kept saying.
They didn't have my brand, but she took my hands and asked where I was from and when I was born and complimented my hat, my jacket, my aura. "You are so good. I want to know you," she said. "Your eyes are so deep and I trust you," she said.
I was confounded. I am always confounded when someone says I am beautiful. What do they really mean? I am not beautiful so what are they actually saying?
When I am mistaken for a man, I think Yes, they're right. I am a mannish woman without feminine physical beauty.
At a speaking engagement in Indiana, ST faced a heckler who accused her of being a man in woman's clothing. She could not proceed with her address for the uproar. The heckler demanded that she go into a private room with the women in attendance and show her breasts, to prove she was a woman. But she would not.
"I will show my breast, but to the entire congregation," she told the gathering as she undid the buttons. "It is not my shame but yours that I do this."
And so my more-than-a-mouthful breasts might prove my womanhood. How do I prove or disprove my beauty?
