pretty is as pretty does.

j, the pregnant one, got a bikini wax. ouch. she herself admitted that she can no longer actually seehernetherregions- they're hidden somewhere beneath the hump that houses herfetal son - andher husband is in south florida looking for houses, so it'snot as if anyoneelse is going tosee them, but shegot one anyway. funny to me. i get a little giggle thinking maybe, unbeknownstto her, they sculpted her p-hair into some sort of clevershape - a heart,a lightning bolt, a Celtic sign symbolizing fertility. whata shock for herob-gyn.

isn't it weird what we put ourselves through in the name of the big B - E - A - U - T - Y? is that beauty? a well-maintained bikini line?

oh, i'm not judging. i'm just asking.

hell,i do it. i shave my legs even when i know no one is going to see them (very badlyi might add. i've never shaved my legs without carving a chunk outof my shin,leaving my shower resembling a scene from Psycho. honestly, mylegs usuallylook better pre-shaving, hair and all. how many Band-Aids negatethebeautyof a smooth shave?). i've worked out to the point of exhaustion andinjury.starved myself until my stomach cramped so badly i couldn't sleep,my hairfell out, and my nails turned blue. taken a razor blade to my callousedfeet.i got my eyebrows waxed once, and when they ripped off the wax, they ripped my skin off with it (the hair was still there.) so, for 3 weeks ilooked asif i had 2 sets of eyebrows - one brown, one scabby red. totally attractive.i have never gotten a bikini wax, and i don't think i ever will.my netherregions and hot wax - never the twain shall meet.

where does this belief come from - that it's okay for beauty to be painful? oh,the usual suspects, i suppose. the media. the opposite sex. our fathers.our mothers. it trickles down and up and all around until it seeps into our being and becomes a part of who we are - as if it's natural and normal todo these things thatare so, well, unnatural.my mom usedto french braid my hair. she'd pull, and and pull, and pull sooootight...inhaste, she'd accidentally brush my eyeball or my ear or my cheek...when i'd squirm and protest she'd say, in jest, "pretty hurts."

pretty hurts.

does it have to? i'm not advocating stopping all beauty treatments or rituals.i love pretty feet and groomed eyebrows just as much as the next person.i love glitter and nail polish, and lipgloss, and bronzer. i can blow shameful amounts of money at sephora - i'm like a kindergartener set loose in an art supply closet. i love getting my hair cut and colored; i leave the salon feeling like i just stepped out of a Pert Plus commercial. i'm in favorof takingcare of the body. it's a temple after all, and i don't think God would behappy if you failed to polish it and touch up the chipped paint every oncein a while. and i don't know about you, but if i'm having a bad day, a dash of lip gloss always kicks it up another notch. i'm just tired of this "hurt" business. can't pretty just feel, oh, i don't know...pretty?

my stepmother always used to say when i would lament my zits, my braces, or my fine, straight hair, "pretty is as pretty does."

"what the hell does that mean?"

i know now she meant something bigger, something grander, more noble. being a good person and all that is more important than looking pretty. if you act pretty then you are pretty, and all that rigamarole. yadayadayada. at 16, i just wanted to be told i was pretty. that, i've learned is not something you can get from someone else. well, you can, but it doesn't mean anything if YOU don't believe it. you gotta know it yourself. it's a decision you make to be beautiful. therefore, you are. self-prophecy and all that.

so, i'm beautiful, dammit. i'm pretty.

and this pretty don't do hot wax.