I was at the pharmacy today, looking for cold medicine, and as I was looking at all the choices (too many), a man passed behind me in the aisle. I didn't really pay much attention. He was wearing a lot of leather, carrying a helmet. I think he probably rode a motorcycle.
He passed behind me and he said "very pretty." Kind of quietly.
I was only half paying attention, and it didn't occur to me for even a second that he might have been referring to me. I looked up to see if there was something pretty on the wall in front of me. Of course there wasn't...it was all advil and benedryl.
He spoke again. "I don't mean to sound rude or creepy, but you are very pretty." And he walked on by.
I was a little stunned. I think I said "thank you," but I'm not sure if I actually said anything. I was thinking thank you.
You are Very Pretty (work in progress)
You said, "very pretty."
Are you talking to me?
Me, in the same sweater I have been wearing for a week?
Me, without makeup to give me eyelashes and eyebrows?
Me, with the chapped lips.
Did I shower this morning? I'm not sure.
You see, I haven't tried to look any way in particular.
So I am a little surprised.
Could you be mistaken?
Because this girl was once barked at by the neighborhood boys.
This girl once cried over her glasses and braces and beak nose and freckles and pasty white skin and straight hair and long legs and thunder thighs and baby giraffe awkwardness.
This girl has been a wallflower at dances.
But not anymore.
I outgrew that skin a long time ago.
Now that I think about it, you are absolutely right.
Inside and out, I am very pretty.
Maybe not stop-traffic pretty.
Maybe not make-lots-of-money-on-the-shape-of-my-waist pretty.
But pretty-enough-to-make-one-guy-in-a-pharmacy-mention-it pretty.
I am very pretty.
That's why I hold my head so high.
That's why I have been smiling so.
I don't give a damn if anyone does not agree.
And I thank you for seeing it.
I believe it, I live it, I celebrate it every day.
And that's what makes me very pretty.