Yesterday I read the Song of Solomon. It left me with two thoughts.
What happened to the girl? The whole song was written about her physical being. Her perfect beauty. How long did it take for her to be overshadowed by the other (younger) wives and concubines? There’s no evidence that Solomon ever looked into her heart and really loved her. Eventually, there were 999 other women in Solomon’s life. It’s hard to imagine that as this girl aged and wrinkled and sagged, he still might have singled her out as his dove, his flawless one.
It also struck me that, through the ages, men have been attracted to women who are real. The ones who get their hands dirty and do something useful and practical. Look at King Solomon. He married princesses. He had the choice of the most beautiful women created. (And he may have written beautiful love songs to them too, but I’ve only read this one, written to a suntanned beauty who didn’t have the chance to pamper and beautify herself like a proper lady of her day.) She worked outside with her brothers…. her skin turned unacceptably brown….
I’ve had this theory for awhile that women make themselves beautiful for each other. They think, they say, it’s to be attractive to men. But I’m not sure that men are so shallow. I think they see through our makeup and perfect hair, our matching clothes and expertly applied nail polish. It’s hard to disguise who we really are.
There’s a thing that I wish I could tell girls, but I don’t think they’ll ever get it from me. They’ll have to figure it out on their own. It’s this:
Nobody but you really cares how you look.
Take care of yourself. Be pretty. Be clean. Smell nice. Wear flattering clothes. Fix yourself up if you want. But don’t let it define you. And like yourself, even when you feel dirty or fat or ugly. Because you’re the same person as when you’re fixed up – just a little more real.
