Natural Beauty

There’s another reason for my aversion to prom. Many girls love prom because it gives them an excuse to do their hair, paint their nails, tan their skin, buy an overpriced dress and overall, feel beautiful.

I, on the other hand, cut my hair very short so that I couldn’t be expected to curl, straighten, and style my hair. Yes, one of several reasons I cut 10 inches from my hair and kept it short for a year is so that I couldn’t be compared to other women. It’s a statement: “I’m not like you (or her), so don’t expect me to be.”

In my ideal world, I would start the day without fussing in front of a mirror. But I just can’t bear to not wear some make-up in a sphere where 95% of girls do. I’m just trying to equalize the playing field: If no one had make-up, I’d be content.

Me and my grandmother, April 29, 2011.

One weekend this past spring for a Rotary District Convention, my dear grandmother took me to a Hilton Hotel at Myrtle Beach, bought me a $100 facial at the hotel spa, among other lavish expenses that weekend. The week before was spring break; I had received a pedicure, bought new clothes, and cut my hair. I felt like a new, albeit spoiled, person. This is what I wrote that weekend:

“[This has] made me ponder, yet again, the requisites for happiness and contentment. Many times I am ‘unhappy’ because of the appearance of my hair or skin or body shape. I want to look like the other girls, and my only consolation has been all the money I save or put towards more noble causes. … Now, I have spent the money and time on myself [and so] I have forfeited a sort of ‘natural’ superiority.”

In other words, I’d rather not try to look good than try and look the same. Looking at the picture, now I’d say the effort worked, but was it worth it?

JJ, my inspiration, at her wedding this morning (!!).

Enter my friend JJ. She inspires me with her attitude toward materialism and appearances. A little over a year ago she gave away all her outer clothes except one of everything (skirt, pair of jeans, t-shirt, long sleeve shirt, tank top, etc.) so that she could focus on herself less and others more. She also stopped wearing make-up. Today she got married—definitely an occasion to spend time on her appearance—and she was a radiant, beautiful bride.

The wedding itself was a simple affair. I helped serve frozen yogurt (instead of cake). Of course the covenant itself was very sacred and special, but absent were the elaborate trappings of traditional weddings. It fits so well with who they are (read about JJ & Ben’s philosophy on Ben’s blog.)

Whew. I’ve sat for 10 minutes looking at pictures of their wedding, and I feel the same love and joy I felt watching JJ walk down the aisle. I could not be more honored to know them well enough to be asked to serve at their wedding. The love for Jesus that Ben and JJ exhibit is so apparent and so infectious; it gives them true natural beauty, and I want it too.

Prom? No, thanks.

Dressed up for the 8th grade formal.

I’m a junior, and spring is upon us. That means it is now prom/formal/semi-formal season.

Eh.

I am not a cynical ex-girlfriend, betrayed by her heart and fed up with romance, men, and happy things. Rather, it is my conviction that dirty dancing, splurges on prom dresses, and inane teenagers are not happy things.

I’ve been to a couple dances. Not recently, but in middle school there were the sweaty school dances in the gym (I went twice), the Jr. Beta Club Convention dance (same as the prior but dressy and with strangers in Greensboro), and finally, the baddest one of ‘em all: the 8th grade formal.

Oh, all the girls fretted over who was going to ask them to the formal (or if anyone would). I know I did. For months. I would never want to live through that again. One day, I would wish this guy would ask me. Next day, a different one. Third day, I would decide I would turn everyone down. I can barely stand to read my journal entries from those days.

Going to the formal with a guy gives a girl a chance to feel validated, beautiful, and loved all at once, but the climax of it all has the potential to be as devastating as it is exhilarating. You go, but without a date, and when your picture is taken it’s with two friends. You go with a date, but the night isn’t as special as you thought it may be. You go with a date, but you start the next school year at two different high schools. (Then again, there is my friend who is still dating the boy who asked her to the formal.)

I admire my friends who had the common sense to stay out of it all. The 8th grade formal took the place of a graduation ceremony, and it was a poignant goodbye to middle school, but I definitely regret getting so wrapped up in the drama preceding the night.

With that in mind, there’s no reason for me to go to the upcoming “Winter Semi-Formal” or even the prom in April. One thing I am looking forward to, however, is the JAARS [my youth group] Prom Alternate, for people just like me. It has the potential to be ten times as awesome as anything the school could host; last year the juniors and seniors sailed a yacht on Lake Norman in May.

A lovely sunlit evening with friends, minus superficial beauty and hormonal chaos, is worth a bit of girlish excitement.

A Taste of the Big Apple

Over Thanksgiving break my grandparents took me to New York City!

Tuesday 11/22

Immediately after school, I packed my bags and was whisked away to begin the NYC adventure. My grandparents and I dined at SouthSiders in Waxhaw. (Their chicken quesadillas make the whole vegetarian idea seem ridiculous.) We ended the night at Comfort Suites in Charlotte, where I prepared thread for bracelets and watched “Chopped” on the Food Network.

Wednesday 11/23

Christian Tours Coach

At 5am I groggily pulled myself through the motions of waking up, getting ready, and carrying luggage down to the lobby. We waited to be picked up by the Christian Tours coach, which took us to Newton, NC to collect the rest of the group. We made stops every couple hours, traveling through VA, MD, PA, and NJ. Finally, at 9pm we entered NYC through the Lincoln Tunnel. We collapsed into bed at the Salisbury Hotel, 57th street.

Our first day up to New York, at the very first rest stop, a short, shuffling man I hadn’t noticed before approached me and my grandpa. With a slight New Jersey accent, he introduced himself as Joe. With a stuttering speech he marveled at the sunny weather.

As we stood outside McDonald’s in Greensboro, I noticed that every yellow stool was covered in raindrops fallen the previous night; from the beginning I could see that his personality sparkled like the sunlight on the raindrops.

He was in his 60s, traveling alone and with great zest for every activity. “You should really try all the toppings,” he shouted when our tour director mentioned the different hot dog stands in NYC.

Thursday 11/24

Watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade.

After a quick breakfast at the hotel (with coffee so delicious no sugar was necessary) we walked a block or so to wait for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. We chatted amiably with strangers while fighting off the crush of people and the cold.

Papa and I spent the afternoon walking through Central Park.

Later I got my first taste of the glitz and glamor of NYC while watching the Rockettes and walking by the 5th Avenue window displays.

LOVE

Friday 11/25

We were joined by a step-on guide, Bruce, who pointed out significant buildings and their histories as we roved Manhattan Island by coach.

We ended with a 2-hour long “repas de midi” at Le Sans Culottes. (The restaurant is named after the French lower class during the Revolution.) While waiting for my pasta primavera, I made bracelets and listened to the adults chatter.

= Christmas shopping and the namesake of an awesome poet.

After freshening up at the hotel, we bravely navigated the subway system. We emerged at Bryant Park (named after William Cullen Bryant, author of “Thanatopsis”), where I did some Christmas shopping, and looked around the NY Public Library, a 4-story marble monument to knowledge.

That night we watched “Mamma Mia!” on Broadway. Though the show was well-done, I didn’t agree with the values and morals.

Saturday 11/26

Another day of famous landmarks awaited: today we took the ferry to Lady Liberty and Ellis Island. At Ellis Island I nodded off in the movie theater. We lunched on South Street Seaport, back on the mainland.

Lunch at South Side Seaport

That afternoon, Papa and I waited in line to enter the flagship FAO Schwartz store. Overawed by the custom doll houses, Lego statues, and a Barbie Fusball table, we bought Schweetz (candy) for my brothers.

Sunday 11/27

Return home. I try to finish AP homework.

This is by no means a full account, but as I had written it out for myself, I thought I may as well post it on my blog.

Courage, Resolved.

Introspection

Dear 2012,

I typically follow the tradition of making resolutions for the new year—or rather, I set goals—but not this year.

This year, I want to consciously tackle a fear that is holding me back. Recently, I have felt that I lack the gumption and the courage to be true to myself. (And, no, my AP English friends, this is not inspired by The Awakening.)

I don’t want to keep my words inside me. I want to initiate the difficult and awkward conversations.

I want to be brave.

I can write, yes. It’s easy: I can write a Facebook message, an email, a blog post, a text. I can organize my thoughts and take time to think of replies. But this is beginning to feel like the bottom rung on the ladder of interpersonal communication. Equal to the ease of  serious communication via online social networking is its inadequacy.

When I write, whether for communication or for catharsis, I only achieve so much. I can put my feelings into words and try to make sense of my world, but I can’t get feedback from the people concerned. I can’t watch their faces or hear their responses because I am afraid of feeling pain. I can’t feel their love because I am afraid of facing their displeasure.

But I have to, for there are so many conversations that need to happen, and so many raw and risky words to exchange.

It’s so easy to stay on the surface—to stick with safe topics. Even with people I love and trust, with women in whom I have found wisdom, inspiration, and encouragement, it’s  hard to speak of what really concerns me.

Relationships are meant to fill and satisfy, but after surface conversations, I have a gnawing sense of loneliness only because I refuse to let anyone in.

I can’t keep hiding parts of myself just because I’m afraid of how people will react, or what I will lose (nothing in most cases!). I desperately want to live in the light.

I’ve always enjoyed adventure and challenge: traveling the world, learning a new sport, starting a blog. But simply overcoming the fear that keeps me from picking up the phone and calling someone for advice, encouragement, or no reason at all can make my day-to-day life an adventure.

This is my only resolution this new year: to give voice to the truth inside my heart, no matter how difficult it is to package neatly.

Yours truly,
Alisha