I never wanted to be fashionable or pretty, shallow attributes I thought. But elegance, now that was a quality that came from within and transcended age and beauty. A graceful self assurance, a deep dignity, a stillness that soothes all surroundings, accessible and difficult as enlightenment. Youthful loveliness is not elegance, the moment she adjusts the strap or tugs at her underwear. The real thing could not be so easily shattered. Posh rooms with patched wiring and a huge TV are likewise a mere semblance, trying too hard, missing the point.
I have touched the elegance in myself, if only while modeling for art classes many years ago. In my skin, I pleased the artists, serenity welled up from the necessity, I found comfortable poses like a cat finds ease. I've lost that body comfort somewhere along the way.
Most of my life, I have been the klutz, drab and odd in turns, but able to be amused by myself. I never even try to resist any physical pun opportunity, considering embarrassment the waste of a good joke. I wear clothes like they are always the wrong size, color and shape. No matter how much I blame my lifetime in uniforms, tis me.
Perhaps that elegant thread will twine back around, and I will find my way again.
This is my 800th post. I've never kept track of when I started blogging, exactly, so I can't do an anniversary blog day. This seems a good milestone. I feel so rich.