Beauty in Odd Places
I’ve decided that rather than go for another doomed effort to diet, I’m going to enjoy the success I’ve already achieved. Those who know me will be surprised to learn that my beauty has overwhelmed men with wonder. Believe me, I was surprised too. I never thought anything like that would ever happen to me.
In college, along with normally pretty roommates, I was always cursed with one so radiantly beautiful that men fell to their virtual knees as she passed. Now that I’ve read the Harry Potter books, I’m sure these girls were veela (part human, enchantingly lovely). A parade of cute guys would stampede through my apartment in hopes of catching a glimpse of her, while the rest of us would sigh and discuss what kind of pizza we should get on Friday night as clearly, we would be staying in again.
My freshman year, I made the mistake of going to dance with the veela. She made an entrance like Cinderella at the ball and that was the last I saw of her until she took a brief break and came over to me.
“Hi!” She said brightly, “Having fun?”
“I guess.”
Just then, yet another good-looking guy came towards us, eyes fixed on her. Without so much as a glance at me, (I was after all, invisible, veela have that effect on people), he said, and I quote, “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room. Would you please, please just dance one dance with me?”
Thoroughly demoralized, I left.
I wondered what it would be like to dazzle a man from across the room like that? Many years later I found out, although it wasn’t quite like I’d imagined.
My wish was granted after I’d had a total knee replacement. As other unfortunates have discovered, recovery requires a lot of physical therapy. One day as I was doing uncomfortable things during an appointment, a very handsome man entered the room. Apparently, he was visiting to evaluate the facility. He was chatting with the other therapists when he happened to look my way. He drew in his breath. His eyes locked on me. He stopped speaking to the others, then strode purposefully toward me, looking as though he’d seen something wondrous. As it turned out, he had.
“Hi, I’m Dr. So and So,” he said, staring at my knee. “What’s your name?”
“Anneli”
“Wow,” he breathed reverently. “When was your surgery?”
“About three weeks ago.”
By this time the others had gathered around.
“Just look at this lady’s scar! It’s perfect! The line is so straight!” Very gently he caressed the scar. “Exquisite! This is the most beautiful knee I’ve ever seen! Can you straighten your leg?” “Excellent! Just excellent!”
Never have I been so admired. It would have been nice if he had been looking deeply into my eyes, but it was a start. And the compliments felt good, even though I knew the only way he would ever recognize me again would be if I were wearing shorts.
“I think you’re beautiful,” said my sweet husband Dave, when I told him about it.
“Yeah, but you don’t count. You have to say that.”
“Oh brother,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Dave and I don’t want to seduce anybody else, it’s just that it would be nice to know that I could if I wanted to. I thought I’d had my moment, but to my astonishment the day came when another handsome stranger was bewitched by my beauty. And this time he was looking deeply into my eyes.
He was the optometrist.
He greeted me and noticed that my eyes are blue. “Blue eyes!” he said, “This will make a nice change. I’ve had a run of people with dark eyes lately.” He went on, “Dark colored eyes are really pretty, but they’re harder to examine because it’s harder to see all the way through to the back.”
He began to check my eyes.
“Ohhhh,” he said reverently, “magnificent.”
The more he saw, the more enthusiastic he became. My eyes were so clear, so light, so beautiful! He could see everything! I was feeling pretty good. And then he went one step too far.
“Why, it’s almost as if you’re an albino!”
Oh well. The good news is that as I get older, more body parts are bound to have problems, and maybe I’ll discover even more beautiful features. It’s all about appreciating what you have. Maybe my elbows are especially shapely? And of course, there are all the internal organs yet to be explored–for all I know, I have a sexier spleen than any of those models in the “Sports Illustrated” swimsuit edition.
It’s a beautiful thought.
In college, along with normally pretty roommates, I was always cursed with one so radiantly beautiful that men fell to their virtual knees as she passed. Now that I’ve read the Harry Potter books, I’m sure these girls were veela (part human, enchantingly lovely). A parade of cute guys would stampede through my apartment in hopes of catching a glimpse of her, while the rest of us would sigh and discuss what kind of pizza we should get on Friday night as clearly, we would be staying in again.
My freshman year, I made the mistake of going to dance with the veela. She made an entrance like Cinderella at the ball and that was the last I saw of her until she took a brief break and came over to me.
“Hi!” She said brightly, “Having fun?”
“I guess.”
Just then, yet another good-looking guy came towards us, eyes fixed on her. Without so much as a glance at me, (I was after all, invisible, veela have that effect on people), he said, and I quote, “I’ve been watching you all night from across the room. Would you please, please just dance one dance with me?”
Thoroughly demoralized, I left.
I wondered what it would be like to dazzle a man from across the room like that? Many years later I found out, although it wasn’t quite like I’d imagined.
My wish was granted after I’d had a total knee replacement. As other unfortunates have discovered, recovery requires a lot of physical therapy. One day as I was doing uncomfortable things during an appointment, a very handsome man entered the room. Apparently, he was visiting to evaluate the facility. He was chatting with the other therapists when he happened to look my way. He drew in his breath. His eyes locked on me. He stopped speaking to the others, then strode purposefully toward me, looking as though he’d seen something wondrous. As it turned out, he had.
“Hi, I’m Dr. So and So,” he said, staring at my knee. “What’s your name?”
“Anneli”
“Wow,” he breathed reverently. “When was your surgery?”
“About three weeks ago.”
By this time the others had gathered around.
“Just look at this lady’s scar! It’s perfect! The line is so straight!” Very gently he caressed the scar. “Exquisite! This is the most beautiful knee I’ve ever seen! Can you straighten your leg?” “Excellent! Just excellent!”
Never have I been so admired. It would have been nice if he had been looking deeply into my eyes, but it was a start. And the compliments felt good, even though I knew the only way he would ever recognize me again would be if I were wearing shorts.
“I think you’re beautiful,” said my sweet husband Dave, when I told him about it.
“Yeah, but you don’t count. You have to say that.”
“Oh brother,” he said, rolling his eyes.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Dave and I don’t want to seduce anybody else, it’s just that it would be nice to know that I could if I wanted to. I thought I’d had my moment, but to my astonishment the day came when another handsome stranger was bewitched by my beauty. And this time he was looking deeply into my eyes.
He was the optometrist.
He greeted me and noticed that my eyes are blue. “Blue eyes!” he said, “This will make a nice change. I’ve had a run of people with dark eyes lately.” He went on, “Dark colored eyes are really pretty, but they’re harder to examine because it’s harder to see all the way through to the back.”
He began to check my eyes.
“Ohhhh,” he said reverently, “magnificent.”
The more he saw, the more enthusiastic he became. My eyes were so clear, so light, so beautiful! He could see everything! I was feeling pretty good. And then he went one step too far.
“Why, it’s almost as if you’re an albino!”
Oh well. The good news is that as I get older, more body parts are bound to have problems, and maybe I’ll discover even more beautiful features. It’s all about appreciating what you have. Maybe my elbows are especially shapely? And of course, there are all the internal organs yet to be explored–for all I know, I have a sexier spleen than any of those models in the “Sports Illustrated” swimsuit edition.
It’s a beautiful thought.