Pizza, wasabi, ginger and garlic butter sauce. Items that all on their own might be rather appealing, but mixed together…well, that’s another story. Fresh after their loss to the men in a friendly game of Taboo, the ladies had to make good on the wager that we had made before the game: losers have to eat/drink/survive whatever concoction that the winners decided to create with any four items from the several of leftovers from that night’s meal. And as young men who are very sympathetic and understanding, we of course opted for the most putrid, disgusting leftover items we could find. Thus, you have…
Yes, that might actually taste worse than dog vomit. Big props to the ladies. I think the guys woulda whined and found a way to get out of it (maybe even played a dangerous “double or nothing” to redeem the situation). But the girls just “manned” up and stuck it through.
Which brings me to my next point and main topic of blog entry. The ladies that I’ve been hanging out with recently are quality. Not to unduly flatter them (cause I’m not looking to score…I see them just as sisters…really!), but if they were meat, they’d be Grade A. (Wait…so, you mean they are Grade A? LOL j/k.) No, it’s not only because these girls can bake, cook, play Taboo (and allow the guys to win because of our egos, of course…), and then down the sickest concoction from the deepest depths of garbage hell with little complaint, though those are all very endearing qualities indeed. But it’s also and mainly because they are women who allow their personality, character, beliefs and values speak for themselves.
I’m sure we’ve all met beautiful bodies with ugly souls, and conversely, not-so-attractive people with amazing depth. To me, it was almost always those people who were real with who they are that seemed the most interesting. People who are just comfortable in their skin, whether taut or stretchy, dark or light, pure or blotched…people who know what they are and what they are not and can accept that with peace. These are people who aren’t afraid to fail because they’ve accepted the fact that life comes with cuts and scrapes every once in awhile; they can laugh whenever they fall because as often or as hard as they fall, they can probably see that we’re all just bodies full of scabs and band-aids anyway.
These are the type of people who only get better with each subsequent meeting, because you know that their real self–the true beauty–is growing on you. The delight of their wholeness is planted and sprouting in the right place: on your heart and not your eyes. I believe this is a glimpse of the soul in its lifted state. This is a hint of what all men and women can become if they see their own worth and value from how they were created, and not what they attain to be because of what society or media says they need to be.
I mention all of this because I find that it is getting harder and harder to meet people who are “real.” I don’t know if I’m speaking out of bitterness or mere discontent–and this is not meant to rail on ladies who struggle with this, because I’m wrestling with the same log as a man–but nowadays, it is quite a challenge to find women who stand for more than episodes of The Hills, LV purses, and “Cosmopolitan” beauty. Not that those things in and of themselves are contemptible, but there is something about those types of people whose lives seemed shaped and defined by the material things that just doesn’t sit right with me.
Not necessarily people who just own these items, but people whose lives seem to be dominated by and revolve around these objects, as though not having them demeans or devalues their entire being. But if you need to wear a top with a brand-name logo or drive a car with a certain emblem on the hood to feel accepted, then you’re probably not running with the right crowd. To define your identity by a man-made item is to do no less than cheapen your infinite pristine self-worth.
I say this to encourage the ladies (and even men) out there who feel like they aren’t pretty or thin or fit or fashionable enough. Don’t take that BS from what others tell you. You are not what you wear or what you buy or who you run with or how much money you make. None of that is real in the end. It is time we start concerning ourselves with the real meat of our lives: our dreams, purposes, desires and ambitions–and it is time we stop caring what others think about us if those opinions don’t concede.
As I’m maturing and figuring myself out more and more, I’m finding it so freeing to just be me. Thin, lanky, goofy and downright dumb at times. I got many weaknesses, but by the grace of God, I am what I am. And that’s the way it should be. No weights and no masks.
So ladies, just be yourselves. Less make-up, more inner candy. Put down the trashy magazines and start filling your soul with music, books, sports, philosophy–whatever it is that makes you feel alive! Just enjoy you being you, even if no one else is watching.
And don’t worry about him. The time will come when it’s time, and as long as you’re being true to yourself. Playing the “personality-soul-nice” card doesn’t mean you’ll get the “man of your dreams,” but at least you’ll be fishing for the right catch with the right lure.
Looks are somewhat important, but it isn’t everything. Because the fact of the matter is, when we grow old and our bodies fail and our hair falls out we’ll be left with physical shells of what we used to be. But the person whose inner beauty glows so much because of her character and personality and other intangibles is the perfect present–the skin above it would be a mere wrapping for the priceless treasures held within.
This is someone you want to live with for the rest of your life. Someone who only looks better with age and time, because you’re not simply seeing her with physical eyes but eyes that can examine right into the heart and soul.
Let us real men find one of those, because those are the women that really count.