i’m tired of all this nonsense about beauty not being only skin-deep. that’s deep enough. what do you want—an adorable pancreas ?

Shortly after our rebellious hour long pseudo breakup in the face of all things PDA and saliva covered, and after recovering from feelings that can only be described as vomit. stab. vomit. stab. vomit, the boy and I decided that though hell no we’re never going to get married because we’re just far too in love with our own hippie-leaning, above it all mentality, kthanksbye, it would be entirely too amusing to yes, make vows to each other, but no we don’t need any of your witness/ legality nonsense.

Yup. We’re pretentious like that.

So, under the twinkling lights of a warm February evening, with fireworks in the distance, stars in our eyes, and on a calendar date made for true love (lie. preceding sentence should read as such: In line to witness pirate puppeteering, surrounded by the obese masses, and under the influence of multiple churros…) we made vows to each other of an entirely unique nature.

And while the hilarity may now be subdued by the fact that I am not tired to the point of oh my god everything is so funny I think my hot chocolate was drugged because I CANNOT STOP LAUGHING and seriously I feel l like I’m on an LSD trip right now, I still fully support the vow I made to the boy, and the point of this restless diatribe that has now spiraled for 220 words with no direction.

My eloquent and singular vow for our mock marriage, lovely elocution in tact?

I promise right here, right now that I will never ever get fat and ugly. Old? Well, that shit can’t be helped, and you’re going to get all wrinkly too, but I swear to god, even if we have kids and I temporarily look like a small dinosaur, I will totally jazzercise off my fucking muffin top and get my tits lifted because yes, I am shallow and no I don’t expect you to love my just as much if I look like Rosie O’Donnell.

And while I may be enormously superficial, I am still entirely convinced that in society’s valiant mission to pretend we value what’s on the inside more than the pretty packaging by invoking all sorts of euphemisms that let’s be honest, only ugly people employ, like “real beauty is on the inside,” we’re seriously denying an entirely animalistic, vital, and human part of our evolutionary biology.

Or something dramatic like that.

And also. Real beauty is on the inside? Yes, because my spleen is just so fucking sexy. No.

I’m neither blind nor ignorant to the fact that my boyfriend did in fact fall in love with me when I was ridiculously hot, 18-fucking-years-old, and 110-fucking-pounds.

And that? Is not a bad thing.

Because as much as we attempt to flaunt our own noble aspirations and preach saintly mission statements about just what love and relationships are supposed to be, we cannot forever ignore the fact that, really? We. Are. Animals.

Sexually driven, attraction and obsessive attachment hungry animals.

So while the forthcoming sentence is entirely deserving of its own blog, novel, manifesto, for now, let me just say:

sex. is. important. attraction. is. necessary.

Polite society’s unwritten rules, magazine articles, books, movies, modern definitions and oft quoted quips repeatedly attempt to downplay the need for attraction and physical love in a long term relationship. The sexless marriage is presented as the rule, not the exception. It’s laughed at and joked about, but really, it’s just accepted as a natural progression of a years-old partnering.


I’m not ok with that.

Just like I’m entirely sure that the boy would not be ok with me gaining enough weight to constitute an Olson twin nor entirely giving up my feminine wiles and fishnet stockings.

So. no. I would not expect nor ask him to love me just as much if he was wildly unattracted to me. Fiery, all-consuming, want-to-stare-at-you-for-days type attraction brought us together- I can’t pretend I would’ve given him a second glance if he wasn’t as ridiculously hot and Orlando Bloom-esque- doppelganger worthy as he is. And while I want him to value me for my brain, intellect, witty quips, eccentric obsessions, and stellar vocabulary, I would be remiss to not include my physicality among the attributes he loves about me. And that, well that’s just human.

I know he respects me.

I also know he likes my ass.

job of the day: personal trainer


~ by rubylocks on February 18, 2010.

One Response to “i’m tired of all this nonsense about beauty not being only skin-deep. that’s deep enough. what do you want—an adorable pancreas ?”

  1. totally hear you on this, sister – for i am your sex-crazed bff. and understand the whole dilemma of no longer feeling the attraction…well…you know the story. 🙂

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