All that I am, all that I ever was…

I am more than my mental health. I am more than my homelessness. I am more than any one aspect of me. I am Addy. And this is…

020. On beauty (no, not the Disney Princess, the noun)

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My 365 Day Blog Challenge has asked me to write about beauty. I did consider writing an article about Stockholm Syndrome (geddit?) but after the recent infestation of darkness and depression that has bled through my posts I thought something lighter would be in order today.

So for your enjoyment, here are my top ten most beautiful celebrities…

“There is more to sex appeal than just measurements. I don’t need a bedroom to prove my womanliness. I can convey just as much sex appeal, picking apples off a tree or standing in the rain.”
~ Audrey Hepburn ~


This is the only photograph of Audrey Hepburn where my attention is not on her exquisite beauty…it’s on the cat’s delightful facial expression. A demeanor that reveals a soul torn between:
(a) Oh boy, stay calm, any second now I’m gonna be squashed by Audrey Hepburn!
(b) Oh boy, stay calm, any second now I’m gonna be squashed by Audrey Hepburn!

Yet no matter how warm and fuzzy these stunning women make me, something about that list turns me cold.

When I think about beauty I think of an incident during my high school career. Whilst in a work-working class I became embroiled in a debate over Pamela Anderson. Or rather, it was less of a debate, more of an ultimatum; agree that Pamela Anderson is the hottest most beautiful woman on earth else I’ll whack you over the head with this chunk of wood.

Given I’m a stubborn arsed bastard, I chose the second option. And yes, it bloody hurt!

Yet for the week it took for the lump to de-bump I never regretted my actions. I do not believe Pamela Anderson to be the most beautiful woman on Earth. Truth be told she has never done anything for me. At the time I was locked in a four-way open relationship with Sophie Aldred, Deborah Watling and Elisabeth Sladen. All of whom I considered far more beautiful than the pneumatic breasted star of woeful television series Baywatch.

For as long as I can remember I have been a full-blown advocate of the ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder’ approach. I’m sure there are many out there who would rather gouge their eye out with a spoon than look upon Maggie Gyllenhaal. There are probably an equal number of people who, on beholding Audrey Hepburn, turn to the nearest smoker and demand they stab their lit cigarette into their cornea. These same people probably rate Kim Kardashian or Cheryl Cole as being hotter than any of the ten celebrities above – both of whom have never been listed under my definition of beauty. Not they are not, just that I do not see it.

Toward the end of December 2000 I journeyed to the Western Isles of Scotland to herald in the New Year in my favourite place in Scotland. I had anticipated a long weekend of roaming the island, reading some Tom Robbins and eating peanut butter on toast. The last thing I had expected was being honoured by the single greatest vision of beauty I’d yet seen;

A woman in her mid twenties wearing the contents of a small branch of Myer. I kid you not, upon first seeing her she was wearing three T-Shirts, a jumper, a fleece jacket and a waterproof. Upon the lower extremities she wore leggings, pyjamas, trousers and a skirt. At least three pairs of socks hugged her feet within brown hiking boots and, although I couldn’t see it, I imagined at least seven pairs of cotton underwear protecting her nether regions from the onslaught of cold she had not expected. Hidden beneath a green beanie, scarf and the hood of both fleece and waterproof jacket was the reddened cheeks and wide, magical eyes of a cute eskimo.

In spite of the hilarity of the situation, given I was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, I remember looking upon her overdressed, shivering body thinking my god, she’s beautiful.

Toward the beginning of 2007 I was hiking through the Dandenong rainforest with my then girlfriend. She was wearing a purple medieval style dress that hugged her delicious curves and sent her ravishing beauty rocketing into the stratosphere. Over the course of an hour she posed for a series of photographs I was taking using Morgan Le Fay and Arthurian legend as inspiration, and, even if I have to say so myself, they were pretty spectacular; all because of the model.

Upon seeing them days later she became obsessed over the occasional chicken-pox scar that blemished her face. All of which she wished to eradicate with a re-shoot involving layers of make-up or several days spent in front of Photoshop. To me, these scars were beautiful. Even if she were to meet the doppelgänger we all have somewhere in the world, she would still be unique; there was no-one on the planet who looked as radiant and heart-stopping as her.

Recently I discovered some photographs that were taken in 2008. They featured a woman and I larking around dressed as Superman and Supergirl. As I gazed at the photograph my heart skipped a beat as I remembered running my hands over her porcelain skin, losing myself in the softness beneath my touch and the ravishing beauty she exuded.

Each of these women differed in height, weight, build and measurement, but to me, they were the most beautiful woman I had ever gazed up. More so than any of the ten listed above.

In 2006 I showed my friend several photographs of the woman I had fallen in love with on that wind-swept Hebridean Isle, her response “Where are the beautiful ones? She’s not very pretty, is she,”

My reaction was aghastment. I couldn’t speak, form words in my mind, I just wanted to pick up a chunk of wood and whack her over the head with it – figuratively, of course!

Whereas the reality was simply her idea of beauty was far different from mine. To her, beauty was surface, to me, it extends beyond the epidermis and reaches into the root of the soul.

Beauty isn’t bouncing breasts, firm buttocks, blemish free skin and perfect symmetry.

Beauty is what lies within; how someone feels about their breasts, their buttocks, their skin and symmetrical features. It is what drives someone to achieve their dreams or what fuels them to stand firm to their beliefs and remain true to their heart.

Beauty is the undefinable element that raises a person’s soul from the mundane to the sublime.

Which is why the above list chills my heart, for I know I am not being true to it. I created a list of beautiful women (each and all of them) who are exquisitely beautiful and recognisable to all. A list to garner nods of approval from all but myself. I should have titled it ‘thirteen women who are damned beautiful that you may like the look of’, for my top ten most beautiful women in the world…ever it is not.

This is…



“The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure that she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman is seen in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides. True beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It’s the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows & the beauty of a woman only grows with passing years.”
~ Audrey Hepburn ~

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