Dandelions

I imagine that my friends all snicker behind my back in the spring (and summer) when the dandelions flourish. I am the one that you see wearing necklaces and crowns made from the heads of dandelions. I always have a yellow plastic cup on my desk full of withering dandelions. It's an irresistable passion of mine: to love the unloveable, to grow the weed on purpose. My dream is to own my very own garden of dandelions.

Today I feel more like a dandelion than I do any flower. Dove did a reserch project called Campaign for Real Beauty (one of the best survey's ever administered to evaluate media's influence on women) and from that project they discovered that only 2% of women actually call themselves beautiful.

Women hide away from discovering the beauty that the actually hold. Instead they market for the media and buy in to the beauty that is on television, in magazines, etc. I stopped doing the t.v.-magazine sort of thing in order to purify my image of beautiful. I spend time writing about the small beautiful things in life. I call them my something beautifuls. However, though I can see the beauty that surrounds me I have a hard time seeing the something beautiful about me. I imagine it will come with time.

Today I feel like a dandelion, a weed set aside for the picking. I pray for someone to find the something beautiful about me and enjoy it, drink it up like it was nectar.