Tag Archives: beauty

Once and For All

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She smells like lilacs in the spring, where the fragrance over takes all the surrounding flowers and tickles the nose.
We were hugging now, the photo shoot almost over, but our lives together almost beginning.

He held on to me as I sank into his embrace.  Bending my arms and body into his chest allowing myself to lean into, almost feels like crawling inside him.  The warmth is intoxicating, his breath on my hair, my lips held off his chest but only to protect from the deep red glossing my lips.

Her earrings adorn her ears, and her hair is soft to my touch.  She nestles against me and lets me close my arms around her small waist. I can see her eyes smiling, she looks up at me and then softly closes her eyes as she relaxes against me.

“What am I going to do with him?” she thinks, this life of ours is about to begin, we were once just two people and now he and I together.

“How did I ever get her to say ‘Yes’” he wonders, though finding the beauty of her dress distracting as his eyes trace the buttons down her back, where the bustled skirt is straining against the captor holding it alight.

The photographer clicks a few more shots though without words as the two stand there together but one soul waiting to walk down the aisle and vow their forever love once and for all.

Image Credit: hellomuse.com

The Road Less Taken?

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I didn’t ask for this.  This life.  I just thought I’d get up everyday and be normal, that I’d fit in.
I noticed a change in early middle school, not much, but mostly from the men, I’d get called on for questions, or I’d get noticed first when I lifted my hand to answer a question.
I never had trouble with grades, but I found that the grades started to find me quicker even though I wasn’t needing to work so hard for them.
I’ve never had the perfect responses to questions, I’ve never been on the ‘A’ list for whose the smartest in the class, but I’m certainly not dumb. I’m not someone to be trifled with in an argument. “Frankie will fight to the death” my best friend Sophie once said.
However, it seems over time that certain people started responded differently to some of my answers, but take other answers not as seriously.  “That theorem wasn’t your strongest Frankie”, or “historically speaking, I think Dan had a stronger argument about the chemicals involved.” “Yes, that paper showed how witty Mr. Darcy actually was!”
I liked it before honestly. I liked knowing that what I was or how I looked was never a part of the picture.
It’s not that way anymore. It may not be that way for a number of years or never?
I’m not complaining, I’m extremely happy with my life, but where I used to just prove myself, I now never will.  The assumption is now always the same.
I over heard a conversation I was never supposed to be privy too. I’m shocked by the statements, only for the fact that they were so bare, so truthful, and yet while I stood there, listening I realized my ’situation’ was much farther along than I had previously anticipated.  “She’s smart I think?” the teacher was saying. “Though, sometimes I have to first realize that she actually has the right answer before waving off what she is saying.” “It’s like my eyes can’t come to agreement with what my ears are hearing, and with no deal, my mind is left with confusion.”
I cried that day, and that night, not out of pity for me, but that my reality was altered as well.  I realized that evening that I was at a crossroads.
I had a decision to make, and although some would ‘say’ I was able to take both, it really only boils down to humanity and the decisions we decide to make while living amongst them.
Words are cheap, everyone, especially women in the educated sphere, will happily tell me not to fall in line with what my body is making an argument for.  You are a woman, hear yourself roar! Ignore the makeup, ignore the clothes, ignore the looks, and live your life.
I could have done that.
I went down the road of beauty, and love. Academics are still a part of my life sure, and I’ve done just fine in my High school and College years, but I certainly didn’t do them while trying to be a plain non feminine version of myself.
I happily embraced my womanhood and enjoyed my femininity!  I love my beauty, I have deep friendships with my girlfriends, and yes, I still was the Prom Queen.
Had I took the path of ‘smarts only’ I may have made something of myself, or possibly be the owner of a special skillset that no one cares to hear about.  However, I still have multiple special skillsets and love who I am, I know who I want to be and I happily acknowledge that neither of those decisions are in line with the popular culture’s desire to ‘fix’ my problem.
Last night, while prepping for my date, I caught myself in the mirror for a few seconds. It takes a while to ‘get ready’, but  I couldn’t be happier with that person in the mirror, I love her, and she is loved by many others.

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Why So Harsh, Why ( most ) Men Suck

Waking up in the morning can be a bitter pill.  Some days I wake up and look forward to the happiness of the day, but today everything sucks.

I hate that my hair seems to default to frizzy and broken.

I hate that my stomach has more fat this year than last year.

I hate that my ears are too big.

I hate that my face seems to break out when I’m stressed, or sad, or too hot.

I hate that I live alone.

I hate that my friends keep finding their ‘soulmate’.

I hate that all the clothes in my closet are horrible and I have nothing to wear!!!

I hate that I don’t have a boyfriend.

I hate that a number of months ago I thought I had a boyfriend but he wasn’t interested in the long term. Or was he just not interested? Or was I not interesting? Was I not pretty enough? Was I not funny enough? Do my knees look funny? Was I too prudish? WHAT WAS IT?

I hate that though I wasn’t in love, (yet?)

pinterest_girl_crying_black_whiteThat there were real possibilities. Or was it that there never was a possibility, and looking back why was I thinking there was?

I hate that I believe in marriage, but none of the boys ( yes boys ) have any reason to marry because all of us ‘normal’ girls are so desperate to find someone ( anyone ) that we end up doing and giving up our values and beliefs just to have someone near us.

 

 

I hate that this morning I have to get up, preen myself ( boys call them the 3 s’s ) do my hair, paint my nails, wear something presentable just so I get noticed.

BUT WAIT! WAIT YOU SAY! You don’t have to do that!!!!

I KNOW! I answer back.  I so so know.  Buuuuuuuut if I don’t, if I fall out of bed, leave my jammies on and plod around the house in my slippers, if I leave that broken nail broken, don’t hide my ugly toenails, wear the ugly closed foot sandals, or worse, wear the cute open toed strappy sandals, with the sloppy shorts and old t shirt, I find that the boys I attract are worse than the ones I was dating in the first place.

 

WHAT DO I DO????

I’m not horrible looking, but I’m not perfect.  I look at all the insta posts about blah blah get a new body blah blah. You’ll be happier blah blah blah!!! I even post on instagram ( shameless plug instagram.com/morganwerhen ) mostly with beautiful pictures, largely with happy women and/or brides. I find that men pictures are mostly too hulky or ‘look at me I’m Goliath and I can eat 5 steaks a day!’, or they’re so into themselves that I can’t possibly relate or want to relate. I DON’T NEED A GOLIATH, I JUST NEED SOMEONE.

 

I used to be pretty confident in myself, I was dating frequently, but as I turn the corner into my 30s I’m finding that I just want a man who loves me for who I am. Who will hold me when I’m sad, laugh with me, and largely someone I can get along with.  Is that so much to ask?

WHERE ARE YOU MAN????

Currently I don’t believe that man exists.  If he does or if I think I meet him, he definitely wants inside my panties, and he isn’t interested in commitment. Or he is interested in commitment but first lets get into my panties and then we can talk about the holding. I’m not sure if it’s me or society or it’s just that I’m not worth the time?

Last night I cried about it. This morning I’m plodding around my apartment in an old t-shirt.

Tonight I’ll preen and hang out with girlfriends and hopefully I’ll feel better.

~Morgan

Image Credit: Pinterest

I Love Paris!

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The sun is up and the morning has shown her beautiful face.
I dress for the day as the light breeze floats through the window.
The blossoms launder the room with their fragrance and their
shadows dance on my face, and bed while they move about in
between the sun and shadow.
I smell Parisian coffee from the cafe’ below my window.
I hear small silver clinking and spreading the luscious tasties on
warm delicious breakfast morsels.
The day is glorious and I get to spend it HERE!
The morning beckons and I push my door open to see this
beautiful city Paris!

The Song Remembers

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There is a place in everyone’s heart that doesn’t seem to have a switch with a mappable location.
It snuggles in, hidden from your sight, even hidden from your life, but makes itself aware in small subtle ways over the course of our lives.
To call it a switch is unkind really, as to actually turn it on is transformative.  The change takes place in your entire being, your heart beats faster, hands seem to be shaky, legs less sure.  The mind however, no words can describe the changes there.  Once the change happens, the mind becomes euphoric, or depressingly sad. The delicious meal that was causing so much happiness suddenly turns to gruel in the mouth. Of course, the opposite is also true.  The tears falling with no possible end, may suddenly change to divine joy in which for every tear the sun shines brighter, and even the rain turns into a pitter and patter of diamonds dropping out of the sky.
I’m talking of course about the power of music, a sound, a smell and its ability to conjure up memories from a far off time.  The switch of course is that single moment when you were doing one thing, in fact, you were living your life as if nothing had ever happened. You were effectively doing things any human would do, and then out of nowhere something changes. Your ear hears a sound, you smell a meal, a flower, even a smell that means nothing to anyone else near you.
This single moment changes everything.
The second your mind hears said audible note, or notes, you’re transformed. If the memory is a good one, it feels like being wrapped in a soft blanket on a cold day, or hugging a long lost friend for a long period of time without the worry of needing to let go.  If it is a reminder of a loss, then time seems to stop, you feel your body twist backwards through the tunnel of sadness, and your entire being is as emotionally distraught as if the event just happened again.
Sometimes these memories are so powerful, the person you were before the memory, and the person you become after are two completely different versions.  Some people have regressed so far as if they either lost 30 years and appear as a young boy or girl.  Others mature to the point of “walking out of a there a new woman.” There is simply the possibility that the memory will bring with it joyous thoughts which float around the mind, change the eyes, and mouth for a small minute and disappear as if they never floated back.  Others will roar back and take over, possibly never leaving and effectively changing the individual for the rest of their living life.
How can it be that one sound, one song, or noise, or smell or feel is so powerful?
I don’t know, but  Trisha Yearwood did in  “The song remembers when,” and everyone who listens to that song can place themselves in a similar situation where during one second everything was perfect, and suddenly without notice, everything changed.
Image Credit: pinterest.com

What Used to Be

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I climbed this mountain today, remembering a time that seems so long ago.
The sheets wrap around me like linen on a body laid in state in front of the masses quietly mourning the loss of a soul once brought to life because of you.
My room is a tomb, cold, without life or light, sitting alone. No perfumes adorn my neck, no iron has worked through my hair.  I lay here in jammies made only for warmth, remembering a time when I laid here next to you.
The tulle skirt lies crumpled on the floor a heap on top of the lacy top. My shoes were picked specifically for the twirling and dancing we used to do.  The roses you bought, still in their vase now wilting, petals falling one by one as if forgetting they used to be part of something beautiful, lovely. With each loss the once whole flower now becomes a broken husk that someone remembers once had beauty.
The tears begin anew like the rain pelting coldly outside.  I don’t know if I’ll make it today, so I close my eyes and descend the hill back into my bed, maybe tomorrow I’ll crest this sorrow and escape this sadness.
Image Credit: www.luciadress.top

Heels are Glorious

I was traipsing around various stores, loving all the things. Tops, rompers,  jumpsuits,  sun dresses.
I love that the sun excites me about stepping outside in that cute lacy tunic, hair not frizzy, makeup actually works and feeling like people around me see me as I feel.
The feeling comes so seldom, I have to write about it as soon as my mind agrees with my mirror!
I’ve often wondered what it was that magically transforms my feelings about me.
It’s the shoes. Actually, it’s the heels!
They’re sometimes impractical,  slightly not comfortable and mostly not for non gymnasts like me, but I love how they look on my feet. I even love walking into my closet and just staring at them imagining how they will look with my outfits that week!
I love that the right pair of shoes transforms my outfit from chic to lustrous. The perfect accessory is the right shoes. The little straps, chunky heel, cute toes, they all make it pop.
When it pops right I feel amazing.
Is it okay to admit this? I feel that society sometimes pressures me (us) not to be beautiful, to fit in and not to pop. I love shoes, I do, and I guess I’m not going along with the pressure. Beauty is a thing and I love to feel beautiful.

Am I Enough for You

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Am I enough for you?
Do you see me sitting here waiting to be loved by you?
Do you know the power you hold over me? How vulnerable I am? I put on a good show. I make you work for me, I don’t let you run me over. I know you care. But do you really know what I’m capable of doing,  blossoming into when you care for me likeI need you too.
Do I trust that you will?
Do I trust you?
I’ve lived this life being told so many things, I can conquer, I can do, now I sit on this bed, holding these flowers and all I want is to be enveloped by you. I desperately want to give in to these feelings and know my heart will be held closely by you. Can you? Will you?
I wish I knew for sure, but my heart has been handed to you to take, and I’m not sure I have the strength to take it back and run away.
I love you so, do you love me so too?
Image Credit: www.brit.co/getting-ready-wedding-shots

The Pink and the Flowers

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I wake in the morning and feel lost without my lace.
Silk wakes my soul like a flower blooming after a spring rain.
Satin around my skin envelops like the steam rising from a warm coffee on a cold morning.
This dress wraps me like a rich foliage basking by a churning brook, each movement intertwines my whole self in beautiful color.
I feel awake, removed from the slumber that confined my personality before bathing myself in this delicate pleasure.
Image Credit: weddinginspirasi.com

Behind the Curtain

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I’ve spent my short life getting to this point.  I stand here behind the curtain.  The silken sparkly trap hiding me from the masses.
My body is toned and healthied to within an inch of starvation. I’m emotionally voided. My smile is plastered as naturally as the sun shines on the masses.  Perfectly manicured nails jut out from flawless fingers to slide my hand slightly from side to side. My legs stand smoother than the bottom of any baby. Exfoliated, professionally managed every day.  My bikini shows flawless smooth hairless almost pubescent, it is pearlescent.  My auburn mane is staggeringly beautiful each curl pulled every evening, hairnet slept regardless the day, incredible body like oiled springs bobbing with my every movement.  The dress I have on today costs more than the salaries of the people sitting in the first two rows. The beaded silk bodice flows with my body almost as if it was grown for me. The skirt, set above the knees holds slightly billowed with light crinoline tapering from my waist.  My breasts heave with my breath, shorter as I wait, they now hold themselves plump and alert after this years’ surgery.
I am the embodiment of perfection. I exult beauty. I am what they all want to see, to touch, to imagine. I’m the reason for the affairs, anger, and sadness in their lives. They all want to be what they see in me.
I am the exact representation of female perfection.
The stage was clear, the audience waited in anticipation for the next show. They had paid dearly for their tickets. The demand had been so great that the show sold out before most even had a chance to order.  There was no band playing, soft, excited mutterings were the only noises in the vast theater holding many thousands of spectators.  The show would start on time promptly at 21:00 hours.  At exactly 20:58:23 seconds the curtain started to spread open. It moved slowly both because it was part of the show and to keep the expectations high. The silent motors whirred against the wind as the silk curtains slid across the marble floor of the stage. At 20:59:32 the audience slowly started to gasp as they were able to get a look at the very specimen they were here to see.  There was only silence at 21:00 when the AD009.4 strode forward from its holding position.  Though, to all in the audience they knew the machine only as Eve.