Sweet Shoppe Designs

Natural Beauty by Krystal Hartley
Uncharted by Krystal Hartley
Scraplift of Laura Wilson's quiet observer

Journaling:
Defining moments. We all have them. I’m sitting here on the brink of my 41st birthday recalling one such moment. It’s been 27 years, but I cannot escape the impression it made on me. I don’t know exactly what led me to peek into the diary of my childhood crush, but it seemed like a good idea at the time.

I had asked him to the girl’s choice dance...a big deal for my circle of friends. It truly was a coming of age type of summer for me...a lot of firsts. And it was mostly ideal. I had a lot of things going for me, and I didn’t have a problem taking the new girl Tress under my wing, introducing her to my friends and getting caught up in all the things 14 y/o girls like. You wouldn’t know it to look at her ‘cause she was absolutely gorgeous and seemed to have so much going for her, but friends didn’t come easy...especially with girls. I didn’t have a problem having a pretty friend, and I did sometimes feel sorry that she felt her looks were her only asset...her only means to get what she wanted.

But that summer, when I made the very regrettable choice to sneak a peek into Jason’s diary, I was confronted with words that would forever define how I saw myself. See, Jason had recently recorded his thoughts about the upcoming dance and how he wished Tress had asked him because Krystal was ‘an okay pretty girl” but Tress was beautiful.

Okay pretty. Yep that’s me. I’m not a head-turner. I don’t make the top 10 lists for hot chicks. There are no epic wars being fought because of my beauty. I’m like a 6.5 on a 10 point scale. Girl next door. Okay pretty.

And I’ve been thinking that for more than two decades, with plenty of anecdotal examples to confirm it. And I’ve been mostly okay with it. I am really smart, have a wonderful family, have a handful of talents, have a terrific sense of humor, and I rock the friendship thing. I have so much more to offer than just a pretty face, and well, I’m not exactly ugly.

But then the strangest thing has started to happen...people are telling me I’m beautiful. Sexy. Girl got it goin’ on. My initial reactions are always skeptical...that’s just what they say ‘cause they like me as a person. But it’s a trend that seems to be on the upswing. And it isn’t just my girlfriends telling me this...strangers, men in their twenties, photographers...they are all jumping on this bandwagon. I’m not sure if I believe them...I mean, I’ve been okay pretty for so long. And I’m okay with that.

But hey...if you want to call me gorgeous, then I’m okay with that, too!