kalon #; 1327
username; MotherMother
name; Joseph (Joey)
gender; male
beauty writing;
In a lot of ways, beauty is pain.
A girl decorates her face with makeup and enhances her photos before posting them.
A boy works out not for the health, but for a summer body, starving himself of fats that his body needs.
A grandfather combs his thinning hair even as it falls out, wanting to look snappy for the world, sacrificing pieces of himself for a polished beauty.
A parrot preens itself, unaware of the ominous shadow above it, ready to strike.
And as we do all these things that bring up our appearance enough to step outside, it chips away at our inner confidence.
And it is all aspects of nature.
A tourist clicks away at her camera, framing a gorgeous photo of a magnificent mountain, a gawking at its beauty. But does she stop to consider what the earth had to go through before the mountain appeared? Endless years of building and crumbling, plates colliding, the earth pulsating with tremors.
And what about the lake that sits at the mountain's foot? What used to be a land of ice for arctic creatures has melted into a glorified swimming pool.
Beauty can be an ugly thing. It can shatter a girl's dreams and crush a boy's spirits. It can ruin a date, destroy confidence, wreck a photo shoot, and terrorize our youth. Beauty can be awfully painful, from little palettes of makeup to full plastic surgery. People are willing to do anything to feel like they're worth something. To society, beauty is valued. Celebrities out their best face forward, and actors seem to change as much as the different characters they play. At times, beauty can be very painful. Beauty is pain.
We all want to stand out. To be the most vibrant bird of the flock. But in the end, it is the most camouflaged who evade the predators lurking on the hunt. What is it that keeps this bird alive, whose green feathers blend in with the treetop canopy? Could it be their will to survive and their clever brains that keep them out of harm's way? But how much harm can they avoid, when the very thing that saves them, hurts them so badly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. Words hurt. They hurt so bad that the mental pain can turn physical. An epidemic that touches us all and makes us weep for people we knew before they fell victim. Everybody saw their feathers. Nobody saw their heart.
"You are beautiful" holds the slightest twinge of approval. Approval for your efforts, your struggles, your past. But do we really need approval from others, to feel happy with ourselves? Why do we feel worthless when someone tells us we are, but deny people who profess our beauty? What a painful thing beauty is. Mocking those who cannot reach it, pretending to be outward when it really is found on the inside. Its true form is elusive and hard to unearth, hidden deep inside a person's core, unable to obtain without breaking through the false beauty of the outer feathers.
extra;
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Joey reached out a paw from under the warm blanket and slapped the snooze button on his alarm.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Surely it hadn't been ten minutes already, had it? Didn't he close his eyes just a second ago?
Jericho glared angrily at the clock, but groaned and got up anyway.
He swung open his closet, and sat back to decide what he'd wear today. A nice black jacket with a graphic tee looked good. He gasped when he saw a tear beginning to emerge in the jacket pocket. He tried not to think about how expensive that jacket was. But beauty has a price.
After dressing up stylishly, he checked himself in the mirror. He sucked in his stomach and smiled, but inside he frowned. He was too fat. The men in magazines he liked to read were more toned than he by a long shot, and no girl would date him if he didn't trim down. Today he'd skip dinner again, like he had for most of the month.
He was tired, but looked even more exhausted than he felt. The bags under his eyes made his face shadowed and hollow. This just wouldn't do.
Quietly he crept into his mother's room and slunk away with concealer in hand. He closed the bathroom door behind him and leaned over the sink, clacking open the makeup and brushing some under his eyes. He made his cheeks pop, and his lips a little fuller, but not enough to be too noticeable. He didn't want to get teased in school. Teased without makeup, or teased for wearing makeup. It was a challenge to achieve a balance between the two.
After an hour of 'fixing' his face, his mom knocked in the door. "Joey?" She asked. "You're up this early?"
"Yeah," he called out. "Just... taking a shower." He didn't want his mom to know he had been sneaking her makeup.
"Okay." She said, unconvinced. He heard her descend the stairs.
When he finally finished, he joined her in the kitchen. By the look on her face, he knew she could tell he had put on makeup.
"Oh Joey, you know you're beautiful without that stuff, don't you? You don't need to wear makeup."
Joey said softly, "Then why do you?"
His mom sealed her lips. She didn't have a response, and they ate breakfast together in silence.
It was 8:00 am, and time to head to school. By now, Joey had been awake for 2 hours, the vast majority dedicated to making sure he looked good.
While he was away at school, his mom found that he had been using her makeup since he forgot to put it back. It wasn't a surprise, she had noticed it was being used up much faster than usual for the past few months. But Joey's birthday was on way. This sparked an idea in her mind.
Weeks later, Joey was sitting with his mom and a present lay in his lap. He ripped away the wrapping paper to reveal a pack of his very own makeup. He squealed with joy, hugged his mom, and gave her a big kiss on the cheek. He loved his gift, and used it every day thereafter.
But was it really a gift? It was something that nurtured his insecurities, and encouraged the idea that he needed it. Could something so seemingly innocent harm his inner core? Could the beauty it gave him bring him pain, under the cover of giving confidence?
Jericho struggles daily with his self-worth and confidence. And yet, he adores his makeup. It's his only friend, the only thing that brings him out of his shell. He couldn't see that it was killing him.