The Beauty of Not Being Beautiful

I would have never imagined being thankful for this so-called adverse circumstance that I perceive my life was destined to endure! And I am definitely talking about what the naked eye can see, can automatically see. Let's face it, when Nature decided to scatter good looks over the earth, I know for sure, I was in slumber, deep slumber, my friend. And in this very shallow world we are living in now, it is the pedestal for the exquisite and the pits for the not. [or odd, whatever fits.]

And this led me to utter "the beauty of not being beautiful". It was when Hanz, Deinne and I were walking towards Biong's house last night. And along the way there were groups of men (at different locations) drinking the night away. Deinne was still in her uniform and Hanz, well, he was quite dressed as a man (haha). I was wearing shorts with a big shirt, my hair was up, which I think is my ugliest. So I was very confident that they will not bother to make cat calls or shout "miss! miga!" or whatever wisecrack out of their beer-smelling mouths as we passed by.

I thought, hey! I feel sort of safe in my own skin. Haven't felt that in years. I mean, to truly feel it.

Afterall, there is always something good in what we imagined as rotten luck.

tee hee.