B is for Beautiful

I woke up one morning, and boy oh boy! I didn’t have one grey hair, nor two… I had a silver river flowing along the side of my head. ON top of that, my alter ego – Fatty in the Mirror – ate the entire stock of chocolate and cakes, and thus I am left with the orange peels and the cottage cheese. YUCK.

It is hard to pin-point what beauty is, because… well, it is in the eye of the beholder. So I ask myself… but what if the beholder is blind?
The little voice [the one ignoring Fatty in the Mirror!] answers:

“Even the blind man can see the beauty as it rides upon the sound of a voice, edge itself between the lines on his fingerprints to be spread upon the smooth snippets of life he touches.

Beauty is not just in the eye of the beholder,” the voice tells me, “it is in the smell of the world at dawn, when the sound of birds cracks the sky open like a fertile egg.

It is in the imagination of the soul, tattoo’d in colours of laughter where the lines are blurred but the picture is vivid.

It is in the superiority of a kind thought leading to a magical deed that change the outcome of a nightmare to be filled with flirtatious rainbows telling a story of hope, love, joy…

Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder…” the voice insists, “Beauty, is beholding the eyes of the seeker.”

And so, I point my finger at Fatty in the Mirror, and chuckle at her as she strikes a pose, yet again.

I do not feel very beautiful, and yet… The look in his eyes when he walks through the door every night, is still the same it was 20 years ago. I guess some people may just like their cottage cheese and orange peels a little more than others.

His eyes are beholden, when he seeks out my beauty.