Excuse me?!

The world, as we know it, is a beautiful place with beautiful places; the New Forest, Bali, Niagara Falls. It's full of unexplained occurrences and in a atmosphere that stretches to lengths unknown. And you'll find people; helpful, caring, generous. On some days of, particularly, high spirits, it is hard to fault our earth.

That is, until we become aware of awards like this:

The World's Ugliest Woman. What kind of disgusting world is this?!

When I saw this video posted on Facebook about Lizzie Valesquez, I was absolutely shocked. For one, she's most definitely not even ugly!

But immediately, after I'd thought that, I stepped back. 

Woah! Woah! Woah!

Why did I have a right to decide if anyone was ugly? If I was saying that Lizzie, I must have a concept of ugly and beautiful. There must be a pattern in my mind; a template or checklist, that needs to be fulfilled. Why was I even thinking like this? How could I, even if I didn't voice my opinions, have this schematic selection of a person based on looks. 

And, I guess, for all of us, it's the same. 

One of the things I like about the world is that (I believe) everyone has a soulmate. Someone who we're searching for. No one doesn't have one. If you never get married but you do want to, that's not a sign that you're not loved. It's just that you haven't been in the right place, at the right time. And so, when we find our soulmates, we realise that everyone has different perceptions of beautiful. 

I'm not going to be the only one to say (and I know this sounds awfully crude and horrible) that I've sometimes passed couples and thought;

He/ she's going out with them? 

And then I've quickly reverted back to my philosophy; everyone has different concepts of beautiful. 

And it's horrible! It's horrible that I can't help myself thinking these thoughts! But, with the reinforcement of the mantra; 'beauty is only skin deep', hopefully there will be a time where none of that superficial judgement will reside within me. 

It is for this reason, that I have a big aversion to beauty contests. I'll glance at the picture but will look no further into it. 

Miss Universe - how condescending! The woman who wins this title is meant to be the most beautiful lady in the whole world!! But, first of all, not everyone is going to find her attractive! It's just an affirmation of the image of the body that judges on the panel think we should all be aiming for. Thigh gaps, wavy brunette hair, pearly ocean white teeth. 

But what's even more aggravating is that the most beautiful woman in the world (if there is such a thing) may not have even entered the competition! She might be at home, with children to look after, a job, a voluntary placement. Maybe she doesn't have time to enter. And so, for all the money and publicity spent on the event, the winner might not even be the winner. 

Beauty is such a problem in the world! I often like to think, if we were given a separate sense that would aid our navigation - like super sensitive noses and hands that translated our designs into buildings - the world would be better off blind. 

For all the stick and horrible torture that Lizzie suffered from cyber bullies who put her name and face to the world's ugliest caption, she has come out strong. She has been able to reach out to people and educate them about beauty. She is a true inspiration to all.

I've just attached this video below if you're interested in finding out more about Lizzie. This is the video that I watched when I first heard about Lizzie.

Please enjoy and take on the words of wisdom that she has to offer :D 

The Transformation

Being judgmental is in our nature. Like God cast his hands on the Earth. Created Adam and from his rib created Eve, then threw away the instruction manual and bypassed love. 

"Thou shalt have the power of judgment." 

I bet they don't tell you that in Religious Studies. Perhaps that's because it's not true. Yet regardless of our God-given or self-created 'right', no one can deny the unruly and overpowering nature of judgmental-ness that comes from human character. 

No one's perfect - we've been told it enough times - and because of this; self-consciousness is just another one of our by-products like excess wind and indigestion. 

For as long as I can remember I've been rather self-concious. Not 'sexy' enough to strip down into a bikini at 10 years old. Not cool enough to bare all and go clubbing in anything less than a pair of fur boots and jeans at my first under-seventeens 'disco' at Liquids. There was always something that stopped me. But a body I wasn't entirely proud of or hair that wouldn't fasten like the other girls in my year tended to be something I could mask. And so the (extra) timid, subconscious me would only be revealed  at selected times when each section of my body was under pressure to do so. All other intervals, around family and playing on the computer, would show my semi-shy but nonetheless, cheery personality.

Yet there was one product of my creation that I - and everyone else, for that matter - HAD to confront. When I looked at myself and smiled to the mirror, sometimes feeling a little special with some mismatched and fluorescent outfit I'd put together, the lure of an elongating and darkening upper lip caught me every time and dragged me under. Once I saw it, the said 'moustache', I couldn't shake my own critical thoughts let alone the criticisms of others. When I knew I'd seen it that day suddenly everyone in the world was looking at me; pointing and jeering. Some were but not everyone. 

It only really became a problem when I was in secondary school. I would heard people talking about it. Boys would point it out and even when friends or teachers talked to me they wouldn't talk to me, they'd talk to it. It destroyed me every time. On occasions people would ask why I hadn't had a boyfriend - as many people ask every teenage girl. I would shrug, knowing deep down the potential and, most probable, reason why. 

But for all the stick I got, I failed to publicly admit its existence. I don't so much want to show it off as to avoid succumbing to a pressure of judgments which would destroy the image God had clearly wanted to create with me. But by year 12 I was conned into doing it, unable to face a life of being the hairy one. 

I had had my hair cut in a salon in Dubai - an annual affair.  

"It looks so pretty but ... You've just got this..." The hairdresser remarked drawing her finger seductively over her own lip. The discretion in Dubai is evident. 

Let it be a lesson, once you let someone win with their 'suggestion' you give them full power to abuse you as they wish. Reluctantly I consented only to be dragged into the beauty room and be told of how long and thick the hair was. The hairdresser unleashed every thought she'd had of me from when I walked in to how it would effect my future. 

I walked out of that salon faster than ever; embarrassed, head hanging but also very very happy. I could now look myself in my reflection and not have to cover my lip to see what I'd look like without a rim of hair over it. 

And every time I go for subsequent waxes I come out of the salon with a huge self confidence I shouldn't have. Yes it makes me feel nice and yes "I am now a lady, again!" as the beautician remarked today but why should I need materialism to boost my self-confidence. Why should I be saving money to pay for treatments just to cull thoughts I can't take, stares I don't want and full-frontal abuse? 

"Thou shalt be judgemental" - a phrase I'm pretty sure God didn't and would never say, nevertheless still stands.

Hours spent at the top of the bus

Rain, for all the irony, can be just like fire. It can disfigure like the lick of orange flames. And coupled with the wind, it can reap havoc. But when there is a break, that relief of warm sun, that spread of blue sky, it is all that can be desired.

My favourite bus route is the Number 8 to Sandown. Sitting atop the double decker on a perfect and crisp afternoon, your vision stretches across dales, across yellow pasture and across scuzzy trees leeching the landscape like moss. As of yet, my eyes know no greater beauty than the untouched wilderness of the rural Isle of Wight.
 It's been a wonder, a chance to marvel the English countryside in the dilapidated summer. Though the warmth of the bright sunshine can fool no one, it casts a beautiful sheen over the hills. It's a wonderful sight. I've been getting about the Island lately by bus. It's pretty cheap and roaming the area is a lovely way to spend a few hours!

I always say that when an English summer is like this, there is no place I'd rather be and this stands, somewhat, today. Though I've seen more of the world now than when I made that first statement, it does still hold true. There are a few places I would love to be right now but that's not to say that leaving England wouldn't bring pain. The scenery is absolutely BEAUTIFUL and I get myself so lost in the picturesque. All I long for is to be out in it; to eat sandwiches in an isolated field, to rear sheep and turn out horses. Seeing life from the top of the bus, I long to keep rabbits and walk my dog, to pick shells from a shingle beach and to read with the sting of wind on my face.

That tranquility is outstanding. I've been really blessed and I know it's such a cliche; all everyone in England seems to talk about is the weather. But when everything's going a little bit downhill, the continuance of the weather and it's temperamental nature can fill those awkward gaps and take your mind off a few things.

I'm ever so lucky to have this break; to have the ability to move from scene to scene, country to country watching the world from a different perspective because it true; the weather does direct perception. It does so in such a way that, if this gorgeous sun continues, I'll soon be proclaiming England - rightly and wrongly - to be the greatest country on this Earth! :D