Wise Women Friday: Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

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Words of wisdom from the American writer Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings (1896-1953):

The test of beauty is whether

it can survive close knowledge.

Hmmmmmm. Speaking as the girl who once acquired the nickname "Plumpbelly," I think I have earned the right to say that this sounds a bit like a plain-girl's hope for justice in a cruel, lip-stick smeared world.

The Greek gods had never heard of Venus before she walked naked out of the sea, but she was so beautiful they figured she must be divine. They whisked her away to Olympus. The storytellers will tell you the Vesta, goddess of the hearth, immediately gave her throne to Venus and went and sat by the fire, where she preferred to be anyway. Personally, I think Vesta saw the writing on the wall: when it comes to women, beauty trumps.

True story: in seventh-grade science, me and my plump belly and my trussle-head hair sat in front of two girls: Eve and Ellen. Eve was your basic seventh-grade-boy fantasy. She had boobs. But she also had a flat waist and a pretty face and good hair, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Ellen was tiny. No boobs. But she had clear skin and good hair and blah, blah, blah, you get the picture.

What was it about these girls? They didn't talk much, so far as I could tell. They did not seem to have any special sparkle or wit, but people obsessed over them. They fawned over them; they watched them.

Those girls terrified me. They were like the Bomb, volatile forces capable of leaving a deadly fallout. One word, one look, and you were broken or made. But I wonder now if they ever even broke anyone or if they ever even wanted to? All I know is that I stayed as far away from Eve and Ellen as I possibly could, and, of course, I pretty much knew that I better go sit by the fire anyway because that's where my tribe congregated, away from the thrones, away from the goddesses.

These days, I have many friends who are beautiful, just beautiful. And I'm still surprised every time they descend from their thrones and come and talk to me. I don't say this because I seek some sort of flattery or reassurance, so please do not flatter or reassure me. I say this because beautiful people still sort of scare me, even at close knowledge.