Pretty

I’ve always been pretty.  My parents told me that as a baby, I was super cute, chubby, just the right shade of brown, with a big smile.  Everybody loved me.  In elementary school and middle school, there were some awkward years, especially as a child of immigrant Indian parents, but once I could choose my own clothes and hairstyle, I was pretty.

I spent time on makeup and just the right outfit and it was fun.  I tried to be cool and  kind, but as an introvert who sometimes hides in the kitchen during large gatherings, I knew I could always fall back on being pretty. 

Pretty gets you places – I don’t think it will come as a surprise to any of you that I’ve been judged everywhere, by prospective employers at job interviews, by policemen who were about to write a large ticket, even by disruptive students in my speech classroom.  Most times I come out on top, partially because I was pretty. Sometimes a smile and how you present myself can get you out of difficult situations.  I usually take it as a compliment. Naturally pleasant features + a little exercise and lots of time shopping and prepping = PRETTY. 

But now I’m 40 – sure things don’t change overnight, but my outward pretty is starting to fade.  I’m considering wrinkle creams and what to wear to not look like my tween aged daughter and I’m wondering will I still be pretty at 50? I want to be one of those gorgeous old ladies with silver hair and an amazing sense of style, but the older we get, the more time it takes.  Is that how I want to spend my time, money and energy?

 

I could spend $65 on wrinkle cream or $65 buying lunch for the month for the kid who sat next to Eli and was hungry every day at lunchtime.

I could spend an hour on the internet looking for clothing ideas to fit my shape or an hour in solitude listening to God telling me how he can clothe my soul with peace.

I could spend my morning run listening to NPR podcasts that make me smarter and more current, or I can listen to sermons that encourage me to be kinder and more loving.

I could spend my energy planning a ladies shopping weekend at the outlets (one of my favourite pastimes), or I can spend that energy planning a ladies weekend to encourage each other and really share our problems with each other. 

It was easy to be pretty at 16. Some may say it’s a biological rite of womanhood, but with each passing year, it’s getting harder and harder. I have less free time in my day and less time left on this earth. I’m not sure if I want to spend it all trying to keep up being pretty.  I’m still me. I’m not going to let myself go – I’ll probably keep trying to exercise, dress halfway decent and curl my hair occasionally.  But if I don’t have the latest Kate Spade purse or ombre hair color, it doesn’t mean I don’t know about the trends. I may even covet them now and again, but I’m working on that.  I’ve decided to devote the next decade to being pretty on the inside.  In ten years, no matter what creams or potions I use, I will look different. I’m ok with that. I’m hoping that when others see me, it won’t be pretty that defines me. I want to be so much more than pretty.