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The ugly truth

healingangel

I’ve put this off – taking people’s feelings into consideration.  But it’s time.

I felt brave this week – wearing the brighter lipstick, the eye makeup.  As a rule, I only wear rice powder, light mascara a little color on my cheeks and a swipe of lipstick.

I wanted to try something different.

I even wore a beautiful large necklace on Monday – I felt like I had a neon sign over my head ‘LOOK!’

Please don’t look  I was saying on the inside.

I’ve been told, and I know that by societies standards, I’m pretty.  I don’t consider myself beautiful – but I had nothing to do with my genes and it is a fact, I am not ugly.

Besides not liking to wear makeup, I can’t wear necklaces with earrings at the same time and vice versa.

I can’t wear clothes that draw attention to myself. (Someone complimented me on a particular outfit – that someone was male. I haven’t worn it since).

I don’t want to be looked at for my outside appearance.

I don’t want you to tell me I’m pretty.

Pretty hasn’t served me well.

Pretty has littered my life with ugly.

I have been molested, I have been raped.  Multiple times.  I have been disrespected, I have been leered at.

I want my soul to be seen.  My soul is pretty.

I want my mind to be seen.  It is sharp and full of interesting things.

I want my deeds to be felt – my abilities recognized.

I want my heart to be heard beating – maybe that’s why I have tachycardia … maybe it’s trying extra hard?

I want to one day, be in a relationship and not cringe at a touch.  To be able to be told I’m pretty and glow with appreciation.

I’ve forgiven the many men who have hurt me.  I have forgiven myself for the promiscuity bred from being taught that was love.

But nurture has made more of an impression on my psyche than nature.

I will heal.  I will.  I have come so far.

 

 

 

 

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