“Am I Pretty…?”

The words seem to zip from one wall to the next as if shot from a canon.  Was the echo effect created by her expression based on the deafening silence in which we spoke within?  She seemed to be miles away after that last word “pretty” slipped from her still open lips.  The mechanics of speech aren’t lost on me nor are the facial expressions created by the emotional stimuli generated by the thoughts of that same speech.  Oh yeah, she was gone.  On one as I say!  All because someone had infiltrated her mind to the point of causing her to question her physical assets.

Questioned posed, but wrong question to present to me or…  She hadn’t read the press clippin’ created by me.

 She signed up for this voyage and my answer would support the insight of this miraculous journey many take but never see.  Not exhaling to gather my strengths I looked right at her and said.  “Whoever you allowed into your world and gave them dominion over you, is why you question your worth.  Now, take a moment, step to the bathroom, mine is over there, and put a cool towel on your face.  When you’re done with that, slip it behind your head and tap it lightly along the base of your neck.  Oh yeah, keep your eyes closed while you breathe.  In fact, take three deep breaths, then…  Come on back.”

Every subtle pause applied for emphasis was there as I spoke.  The anticipated psychological effects had hit their mark.  She dramatically internalized the process and visually put it all on display right before my eyes.  Yes, her body language, the slow rise of her breast indicative of her relaxed breathing.  The smooth intentional movements of her hands coming forward, resting on her knees, then…  She stood to do as I said; yes, all there.  Emotional characteristics will tell you much.

When she returned, discovering that my attention appeared to be on a globe of the world that sat within my environment, she said.  “I leave and you dismiss me, what a professional you are.”  Again, my thoughts, way to focused to drift, assessing anything.  Because…  Her words, the hands on her hip, all somewhat defiant.  Nothing needed to be categorized, reviewed or processed.

Others would see defensive posture, assuming while confirming a willingness to defend something.  I am not others.  She was deflecting.  Moving the two of us away from what she placed on the table.

This wasn’t a circus so amusement wasn’t a part of the psychological atmosphere and I immediately brought her back into my world.  The world she sought so desperately to understand.  Using the globe I spun and watched as it turned, asking her to look too.  She did and while doing so I suggested she pay close attention to all the many countries depicted by the semi-precious stones used to create the globe.  Her eyes increased in size as she stated never knowing what the globe had been constructed of.  It was now that I wanted to create a circus atmosphere because she needed a humorous jolt.  But…

We each watched the globe as it spun.  While her eyes continued to reveal the change taking place deep within, I simply said; “see how huge the world is, and look at those beautiful gems making up the various countries, all different yet all of value, now don’t allow anyone to make yours small”.

Our world is huge on a geographical sense.  Small when it comes to international perceptions of what is pretty.

She had let some idiot convey to her what their perception of what pretty was to be.  Whatever that definition was, it was based on someone else attempting to establish a world standard of what was to be accepted as, “pretty”.

People trip off of the slightest things when it doesn’t conform to what the masses say is acceptable.  Looks in a physical sense are different from one person to the other.  Oh, some aspects of the physical condition are definitely from the “U.G.L.Y” pool but to let others cause you to wonder if you are pretty or handsome is some really stupid shit.

One day while “ph-loungin” (reads, doing me enjoying us) I watched as the woman I was with stood over me during a moment of admiring the statues in front of The Staples Center in L.A.  She posed and I smiled, then she frowned.  I didn’t have to ask why because she was just like the woman I just spoke about.  My girl was short according to socially accepted standards according to women’s height.  One other thing, her arms didn’t come from the same custom parts line as the rest of her bod..  To me it didn’t matter but to her…  Whoosh, she was devastated.

Like my client of now who sought solace, I pulled this woman down off the heights of the wall which made up the planter I sat on and she stood upon.  Asked her to stop the stupid shit!  Much like my client she deflected also.  That’s when I pulled her closer to me, held her hands gently while defining the sexiness of her entire being.  Needless to say, she melted.  No really, she felt the sincerity my words held and with it began to share all the ugliness she’d been exposed to because of not conforming to what she had known to be the accepted perception of beauty.

When I expressed to her that I wasn’t the “perceived pretty-boy” when I grew up she didn’t believe me.  Or…  She made me believe that for some odd reason I had to have been mistaken about my own looks from back in the day.  Whatever, I liked what she said but…I didn’t loose sight of what I was saying to her or who I had become.  And this is where the key to “beauty”, “pretty”, can be discovered.

Basically it isn’t what others or any sect of society says pertaining about your physical beauty.  Yeah, you have cultural standards with regard to what is, but…  We are a global society and yet…  Not so open to global perceptions as projected!  When you look into the mirror the reflection is you.  That’s what ‘cha need to accept.  Not another’s projection of what you are said to be!  When you step out in public forget who is around you.  Recognize that you are “You”, like the gems representation the countries of the world, making up my globe.

All men, and all women, reflect.  They think about the past especially where their previous significant other (s) are held.  Tucked away, kept in abeyance but still secretly relevant while they remain on that private pedestal.  And believe this.  It doesn’t matter if that significant other was sometimes abusive or sometimes self-serving.  Whatever their personal traits were, “YOU” were there, “YOU” were with ‘em.  You partook in the life and swore to everyone that this was something you vowed to be about!  Well what ‘cha had then is still with you.  Live with it while loving it and don’t fall to another’s madness about you not being pretty!  “Hey, can you get a cloth and wipe your fingerprints off my globe now…”

Psssss; I can expound on this.  I can take you where you’ve refused to go when it comes to who you are, but why?  Cyberspace is the present reality of public private everything.  If you want more, stop with the e-mails saying, “Wow I learned so much from just reading what you write, can you elaborate more next time”.  No, I won’t.  I didn’t say can’t though.  This is what I do, no names are ever revealed and if you assume anything from the locales I use for reference, that’s on you.  If whom I’ve consulted with spoke to another or maybe you about what we’ve exchanged in private, so what.  I have a signed Confidentiality Agreement with…  A signed Contract for Personal Consultations of which I breached none.  I only have…  With those who read this blog, a desire to expose you to a ‘lil of yourself.  The real along with the actual will only come when you do like my clients have done.  I’m out.

Psssss, Psssss; As for my present clients, past clients who do read my stuff, “no love lost”.  You have spent time with me and do know what I’m about.  Sooooo, stay up and don’t revert back to any of this dumb shit I just spoke on.  And, I’m still out…


2 Responses to ““Am I Pretty…?””

  1. Outstanding information it is really. I have been awaiting for this tips.

  2. This is a perfect example of a woman burned by the uglly flames of emotional abuse. Dealing with this kind of abuse leaves a scar of identity and self- worth. This can sometimes be the result of mental abuse brought on in childhood or later in a relationship with an abusive spouse. speaking from experience it is amazing how as woman we can lose ourselves trying to be in love with a man. A dangerous man is one who can attack you mentally with out physcially toughing you. This weapon in the hands of the wrong man is destructive. The sad part is you have to actually get your head out the clouds and open your eyes . Thankfully in my case it was another man and he told me I was “cold’. I guess that was a good thing lmao!! Anyhow, I started loving me , everything about me, the curve in my neck, the shape of my thighs. I looked in the mirror and was like ” girl u bad”. I changed my hair, bought some clothes, and got my mind right. I realized I did not need a man that made me question my identity, make me ask him if “I was pretty”. I did not need a man to tell me I was “pretty’ either. I had been beautiful all along. Now all I needed to be now was smart, it held more value than “pretty”. Which is truthfully in the eye of the beholder.

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