Delectable Dee

It is a known fact that almost all women love pearls. Especially women who collects jewelries or dresses to the nines and flutters about day in and day out with jewelries as part of their lifestyles.

They are considered elegant and classic and can be seen nearly on every wedding. It is said that a pearl can enhance a woman's beauty, somehow by just wearing it. It's even praised for being so easy to keep and maintain. The best way to to keep them lustrous and shiny? Simply wear them always. Nice, huh? Not only that, they have the reputation to go well with just about any outfit - and yes, even with casual! They also add class and elegance to the simplest formal attire. As the way the saying goes, "Every one looks good in pearls!"

But not me. I don't like pearls. If I can help it, I'm not going to wear them. Yes, I admire their elegance but I don't want that sort of "beauty" around me.

If we approach it scientifically, we'd be using snazzy names that makes us common folks double take and go, "Say what?!" But I am a self confessed romantic (and I like it that way, haha) and so I'll stick with the romanticized version of how pearls are made.

It is said that when a grain of sand enters or gets caught inside an oyster, it irritates it and thus, as a defense mechanism, the oyster secretes a mucus-like substance to coat the intruding substance. This substance builds up around the object and forms into a hardened coat and thus a pearl is made. to look at it in a romanticized point of view, the sand hurt the oyster and the oyster cries and it's tears coated the culprit and whaddayakno, a lustrous beautiful pearl is born. Such beauty being the price of pain.

So, no. I'd rather wear my plastic/glass beads in their rainbow array of childish colors, I don't mind. Or let me have them door-knocker hoops that makes me look juvenile, I can strut it.  I am happy to be branded as a gypsy with my arms covered by layers of beads and hoops and my hair wild and seemingly un-kept to frame around my kohl-lined eyes, to each his own. But in my own world where I prefer to see things through rose-stained glasses, where dreams are as vital as the air I breathe and where I am called overly sensitive and dramatic because I still give a damn, I would rather not be a part or give support to something that was made into whatever it is now from the pain of others.

And a lot of people nowadays can be such pearls. Proud and happy, strutting around all beautiful and glowing that people just couldn't help but be lured by and around them. Come to think of it, we're all practically pears. But there's always somebody behind the curtains. Someone who's life has been pledged to pain and toil, sweat, blood and tears just to get you [to get US] to where we are now. And oftentimes, these people don't want much but our time and sincere affection, a whispered thank you and well-earned warm hugs.

I am constantly in awe of how God reveals to me how blessed I am, how much I have been cradled in love. Everyday, I find reasons to be humble, to know that I am nothing apart from love.

Mom and I
Thanksgiving celebration at Church
November 2008

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