Have you ever had that moment where you see yourself in the mirror and call yourself beautiful? You’re not doing it to be vain or selfish. You look yourself in the eye, and there’s a spark. Something inside you ignites. Here, and now, in this one fleeting moment, you are the most gorgeous person in the world.
If the Jedi have taught me anything, it’s the fact that I don’t need to be considered beautiful to be a force to be reckoned with. Anyone who insures their nose for 10 million dollars isn’t someone I want watching my back when I run into the next Sith on the street.
I’m a bit like Luke Skywalker. He grew up on a moisture farm in the middle of nowhere. I grew up on a dairy farm in the middle of nowhere.
One thing about growing up on a farm…you know how to work. Being the one girl with muscle definition during any sort of sport training? Doesn’t make you anyone’s best friend.
I won’t lie. Being tougher than the average woman has its downsides. Yet, having the ideal of being strong enough alone, not needing someone (especially a man) to help me with the simplest task, makes my beauty pop out.
Guys claim they find natural beauty the way to go. I’d like to hear them say that after I’ve come into the house after milking 80 cows, my hair caked to my forehead with fresh (and now dried, cow manure), my hands stained yellow for the next few days with sanitizing iodine, and my clothes reeking of a mixture of alfalfa, cow spit, my personal sweat, and any hint of perfume still remaining earlier from my day.
My face is clear of any and all make-up. I used to think wearing make-up to the barn would make the experience better somehow. Yeah…the cows really noticed the new purple eye liner. Sometimes, I’d wear a red handkerchief over my head in the attempt to keep straw and other shaft out of my hair…my dad thought I was trying to doll up for the cows again. Or maybe even the milk truck driver.
I’ve long since given up on trying to look cute when I emerge from any and all barns. There’s no point. Guess what? In those moment when I’m combing the bits of cow hair and corn shavings from my scalp…that’s when I catch my own eye in the mirror. And I see it. That special spark. Suddenly, my eyebrows are not so bushy. My lips? Just plump enough. My skin actually isn’t so rough and patchy. Then it comes…yup. The smile of gorgeousness recognized.
Guys go through this, too. It’s just way more manly. I can’t describe the experience exactly. I may have hung out with the guys, but I’m fortunately not a replica of one of them. I am certainly not a dude.
I have my girly side. There are moments when I want to feel “pretty”. Some are highly successful. Others….ugh. Not even worth describing.
One time I’ve always wanted to feel pretty? The morning after I decided to spend the night and sleep next to a member of the opposite sex. My hair has a mind of its own. I go to bed with it feel soft and bouncy. In the morning? It’s a tangled mess of curls and dampness. Apparently my neck likes to sweat at night. Top that off with my snoring, the small glob of spit forming at the corner of my mouth, and can we call it dog breath? More like dragon breathing fire.
I’m really making myself sound like a catch, aren’t I?
Despite all that, there are two specific moments I know….I repeat, I *know* no one can take their eyes off me. One, when I’m on stage, in the spotlight. As a Jedi, I’m trying to adjust to the idea that I should never be the center of attention. But, come on! It feels awesome to have everyone staring at you and liking what they see. Two, when my lightsaber is in my hand. No where else do I feel more powerful or in control or down right sexy.
The only exception is when I’m wearing that just-right pair of jeans, my worn-in brown boots, and my hair is loose against my bare shoulders with the sun shining.
In the first rehearsal of a summer stock show I was in, a handful of years ago now, I found out hours before opening night that one of the chorus girls who was really into the show’s leading man (my character’s love interest) told everyone when I first arrived that I was the weirdest looking girl she had ever seen. I was “foreign looking”, my nose too big for my face, my eyes were too squinty, and could my smile be any bigger? A part of it may have been I was playing the part opposite her current summer crush. Maybe I was intimidating to her. I’ll never be sure. But those comments burned a hole in my memory. Then again, I go back and look at photos from the show or from after-parties, and I must say, I looked quite good. In fact, I looked pretty damn gorgeous.
I had that sparkle in my eye.
In the words of Natasha Galkina, a fashion model: “I have a different look from all the other girls; I am pretty.”
There’s a reason when Celebrity Doppleganger Week rolls around, and I always struggle to think of what celebrity I resemble or replicate in my facial structures. It’s because no one has my look. I am 100% me, and no one will be able to say “oh hey, you look like so-and-so.” One day, people will be reading their magazines, pointing to my picture, and saying they wish they looked like me.
Wishful thinking, I know….But maybe. One day.
No celebrity has claimed themselves to be a Jedi. There has to be a first. It may as well be me!