I’m glad I’m not a traditionally beautiful woman. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I thought it would be horrifying to be that pretty, to get that kind of attention. Especially in high school. I’ve even had my attractive moments (I thought I rocked it pretty well in college).
But I have an actual memory of being twelve years old and thinking to myself, “Well, I may not be gorgeous, but at least I’ll know my husband truly loves me. And I won’t be destroyed by getting wrinkles and stuff.”
Because I’ve never been a drop-dead gorgeous woman, I can’t ever know what that’s like, or how it feels to age, to “lose your looks” when your looks are so much a part of your sense of self.
Take Priscilla Presley. I’ve always thought she was a really, really beautiful woman. She’d aged gracefully, still looking very youthful into her forties and fifties.
She’s on Dancing With the Stars this season, and I’m having a difficult time looking at her. In an effort to stave off aging she’s obviously had a great deal of plastic surgery. I always have a hard time looking at people who’ve done extensive work like hers. Instead of looking younger they look mis-shapen. I don’t think that’s better.
Priscilla, sweetheart, there’s nothing wrong with being sixty-two. No one expects you to look twenty-one, or even thirty. I hope you’re happy with the work you’ve gotten done, but it just makes me sad.
Now looking at you I feel the same way I feel when looking at your good friend Michael Jackson.
As long as you’re happy…