I Like Pretty Things

And I know you do, too. So shut it!

Ugly.
Ugly.

The subject of beauty has come up with unusual frequency this week. Admittedly, I’ve kind of been provoking it since - when I shared it the first time - my position on the matter garnered an interesting reaction… And I wanted to see if it was just the first person I said it to, or if it would be everyone. Turns out:

When I’ve said, “I don’t like ugly things. I aim for my surroundings to be beautiful,” every listener’s looked at me with shock and horror, as if I’ve just said, “I don’t like ugly people, and they should all be banished* to a faraway isle and never allowed to return.” And this is annoying, because in the world I live, when someone says things, she means things (and if she meant people, she would fucking say people, thank you very much).

Not ugly.
Not ugly.

It is also surprising, because preferring beauty to ugliness is NOT some atypical phenomenon.** If it were, gorgeous wouldn’t have a positive connotation, and hideous, a negative; indeed, such a distinction might not even be made. And, more importantly, there wouldn’t be a woman in Ohio hand-making fantastic custom card boxes so that the planet – or at least my desk – could be free of Rolodexes.*


* Full disclosure: If I could banish Rolodexes to a remote island, I assure you, I would. Along with vinyl siding and fake plants. And the Lost h-bomb, so I could nuke them once they all arrived.

** After some pondering, I realized the facts of the matter: People don’t want to admit their partiality to beauty because they’re afraid of seeming shallow. So afraid that they treat me like a pariah when I admit mine… Even though they’re wearing Gucci sunglasses and primping dyed blonde hair when they death-stare me.