I watched her struggle to get out of her car. She had to brace herself with one arm and leg outside the vehicle and pull her enormous weight up and out to extricate herself. All the while, her face was pinched in a grimace as if it was the most laborious thing she'd done in a month's time. The weight she carried on her body had taken its toll.

She grabbed her purse, struggled to closed the car door, and with a side-to-side gait, waddled slowly into the grocery store.

My mind was racing with thought after thought... "Why doesn't she check the back of her shirt?" (It was embarrassingly hiked up in the back.)

As she entered the store, other shoppers looked away in unison, as if meeting her gaze might turn them to stone — or worse — turn them into her.

As she reached for a cart, I realized that its wheels were the very tool she'd be using to help her shop. The amount of exertion it would take to traverse up and down the aisles of the store would require such a brace of support. She needed it for balance. She needed it to protect her. It was to become a barrier between her body and prying eyes.

As she dropped her purse into the basket, she took a moment to steel herself for the task at hand — a task anyone else would take for granted, a task most would find commonplace, boring, even tedious. Yet it seemed likely she took days to garner the courage to go out into the world to accomplish so simple a thing.

As she paused with her back to me, I was afforded an opportunity to really look at her. Her long, stringy hair had been hastily drawn back into a ponytail. Her shirt appeared to be several sizes too small, and she sported spandex pants that barely reached below her knees and drew attention to her torn Keds. She had not bothered to put on socks today... perhaps she simply didn't have the energy.

I couldn't help but wonder... "Have I ever looked like that?   Has my appearance made people look away in revulsion?   Does she realize how she looks?   Does she care?"

Somehow sensing my gaze, she turned and looked right at me. And what I saw surprised me. This woman had the most beautiful eyes. They seemed to relate none of the pain and agony I'd just imagined her life to be. None of the scorn others had directed her way were evident in this woman's eyes. Her expression was open and honest. She seemed truly concerned that she had been holding me up, and she apologized profusely for being in my way.

I don't know if the humiliation of all I had been thinking registered on my face, but I seemed to go on far too long in answering her. I explained that she was fine and I'd only been hesitating to check the sale flyer posted just inside the door. In reality, it was I who was uncomfortable. I'd judged; I'd assumed.

It was this day that I resolved to see beauty in everything — in everyone. I resolved to look past the obvious flaws and see something... anything in each person that was unique to them — that which made them special.

What if we all were to look past the imperfections and see each person's unique beauty? What would that world look like?

                                                            

Copyright © November 2003  Cathy Ghavamian and Low Carb Luxury
Title photo Copyright © 2003  Neil Beaty and Low Carb Luxury

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