I might have to go the Sia route someday… wig and all.

I could have written this blog without adding Sia at all but I love her, and she’s very weakly anonymous. Now, if you all follow James Corden, you’d know of his carpool karaoke series and some weeks ago, I watched the one featuring Sia. Sometime in the somewhat eight minute long video (I hope memory doesn’t fail me), James asks for the reason behind the wing and then says, jokingly of course, something along the line of, “I don’t hope they tell you, ‘Hide that face! You’ve got to hide that face!”

That was funny, even to Sia, I suppose, and writing a post on how inflated the whole concept of beauty is, I had to remember that. Now, Sia is beautiful, and I suppose you can’t be- by the gods of fame- a music star and not be aesthetically pleasing. Then, even Beyonce sang about how much ‘Pretty Hurts’.

Truthfully, thankfully, pretty doesn’t hurt many people. You blush when you’re called beautiful, you say ‘thank you’ and you should, really. But what of those that are not beautiful? It’s easy to say no one should care about beauty but it’s a lie. Beautiful people are easier to fall in love with, trust. Even those of us that believe in inward beauty count outward as a bonus.

This is not anti-beauty; hell no! But human beauty is a selfish kind, to varying extents, vain. Sculptures and paintings translate their beauty to their maker but Human beauty does not. Perhaps we should ban mirrors, start a new movement called anti=beauticism- the appreciation of human beauty- and make it as popular as feminism. Really. Beauty affects those that are not. But then you can argue that everyone is beautiful. You could say no one should be beautiful. Whatever, we think, beauty exists. Below is a short exchange published yesterday. Comment on whether the girl’s reply is right:

I can’t understand why she’s not smiling at me now; really I can’t. I’ve just told her that she’s beautiful, with the perfect cheek bones, highly made up face. I want to add that she could be a model but her stare is too condescending. I quickly look at myself in my mind’s eye again: I’m tall, the right amount of handsome. She should be noticing my expensive watch, my pimple free face, my awesome shoes. The silence between both of us is becoming tight, choking. Perhaps she’s one of those beautiful girls who carry church on their head and shouldn’t be blessed with such second-stare inducing beauty. She should be in knee length denim skirts (not the sexy kind, mind you) and not a monochrome jump suit. She should pack her hair unabashedly; it shouldn’t look with such sheen as though it had been fastidiously made to impress. Her nails shouldn’t be painted. I was beginning to feel something equal parts frustration and anger.

“Did you hear me?” I asked

“I heard you.” she smiled a shrewd smile. “What I’m wondering is: What does it matter?”

It’s my first post with a picture! And yes, we could all start becoming anonymous and wearing wigs everywhere. He he.

Read more at: https://weaklyanonymous./