This is a story written by someone on my personal watch list
When I read this insightful message I knew I had to feature it in my personal journal and here as well. I hope after you read it you will all go and comment to her your feelings.
Thank you, Theresa
The prettiest girls by
The prettiest girls have wars with themselves just as the ugliest do. I've noticed how it doesn't matter what she looks like; she will always find the least attractive bits of herself and inflate them to monstrous sizes. It's no doubt that Helen had her own Trojan war in her heart. It didn't matter if Paris, or Menelaus or every other man and woman in the western world sang of her jaw dropping beauty, she was a woman, and with that comes the unending quest for perfection. It's a little known fact that Helen of Troy had very bushy brows. Its true, they where so bushy that it didn't matter how often she waxed or shaved or tweezed them, by the end of the afternoon she would either have to do it again, or hide her face with a veil, for fear of being dragged to the temple and accused of morphing into a werewolf.
Nowadays if Helen where alive she would most likely be a super model and dating all (yes, most likely at the same time) of Hollywood's finest men. There would be posters of her posing in a pair of tight jeans with her arms folded across her huge naked chest. She would be on covers of magazines and have interviews on Oprah. No doubt she would be like Nicole, Brittany, and Miss Hilton, followed by rumors and wide spread hysteria over her eating disorders and facial creams. "Helen! Voted Most Beautiful Woman Alive, Bulimic??" the magazines would scream. In her interview with Oprah she would divulge her hairy eyebrow secret in attempt to seem "more normal" like the rest of the women in the audience. But no doubt thick eye brows would be the rage and everyone would be scrambling for brushes and pills to make theirs grow as fast as Helens.
Of course, Helen isn't here, lucky for all the mortals on earth now. Imagine the wars, and destruction! No man would want to be with a "normal girl" and thus the population would begin a steady decline, her beauty might be the end of humanity. Killing off the living, with wars against political suitors, and halting procreation among people not born of a goddess, the human race would decline and undoubtedly spiral into oblivion.
Although there is no longer a literal Helen, there is always a figurative one. Somehow normal women just can't find a way to measure up to those 'Tens' on TV. For some unexplainable reason those girls have bodies, and hair that are always just out of reach. Being 5'8'' and 160 pounds I seem to waver in a undecided category. Not big enough to be "fat", but not small enough to be right. Of course it wouldn't matter if I weighed 120 pounds either; a "Helen" would always be knocking in the back of my mind about something, maybe my big feet, that never can find the right sized shoe, or maybe my small chest and big butt, that can never find a matching underwear set to fit. Whatever the reason is, it is keeping me from saying in the morning: "damn, I look good", wouldn't matter, specifically, but there is always one there. For some reason a Helen always sneaks in.
Every woman with an eye for trends knows that the lower, and tighter, the jeans, the better. Because when six-pack bearing sex goddesses on magazines wear them they look fantastic. But the phrase among us commoners is muffin top. Low rise pants reveal more than the average teenage girl wants them to. Bellies and love-handles bulge out over the top of these trousers regardless of how thin or fit you are. I have to admit I am disturbed when I see young ladies seemingly, trying as hard as possible to resemble baked goods and pastries. I see these girls squeezing themselves into pants that will never fit so that they don't have to admit they are a size twelve. The muffin top seems worse when you can't wear the right size, but it's an epidemic regardless. Even though this phenomenon happens, regardless of the amount of "junk in the trunk", girls take it upon themselves to remind everyone around them just how massively, disgustingly, grotesquely, sickly, disturbingly, HUGE they are.
It is common for ladies to have "oh-my-god-I-am-soooooo" wars. These "oh-my-god-I-am-soooooo" wars usually begin with one (generally adolescent) girl staring at a mirror, or window, or toaster, or any reflective surface at all really (women are like birds and fish when it comes to these things), and pinching her ____ (fill in random body part here) while simultaneously complaining stubbornly to all other people within earshot. An example with our favorite Helen, and her ladies maid would go like this: "OH MY GOD RACHEL! I AM SOOOOOOOOOO HAIRY!" (Helen pinches her massive eyebrows and pulls up a few strands). Rachel, being the good maid she is will pat dear Helen on the back and comfort her, "Helen, your beautiful! You're not hairy! Everyone has eyebrow hair!" But people, Helen is not just a pretty girl with no brains, she is not stupid, she KNOWS that Rachel is a good friend, she knows a good friend is there to make you believe you're not really as ugly as you think you are. So Rachel's comforting is to no avail. But if Rachel and Helen where smart they would use their friend Google, and find over 11,800,000 solutions to modify, or even completely halt, your natural hair growth. But of course, since Helens big brows are the "in" thing right now she might not bother.
A boy once said to a girl "you know, you're the prettiest girl in the world" the boy being a silly boy and not knowing very well how to woo a girl, then quickly tripped over his tongue and said something stupid, about how she was still pretty, even though. This girl forgave this boy for his silly blunder. And pointed out to him that's she was pretty not even though, but that she was pretty because. A girl nearby caught the wind of this statement and took her fingers from the back of her mouth. Another girl caught the edge of these words, and they sucker punched her right in the make-up-bag, and she put down her mascara. The breeze of this statement brewed and brewed, until every girl had a maddening notion: they where pretty and it wasn't even though.
Helen turned in her grave. And a revolution began. The women over 40 remember they are still young, the girls over 120 remember they are human, the ladies in size 11 shoes go barefoot, and then the world remembered what beauty was. The prettiest girls where the girls who thought they where so because, and forgot to think of why they weren't enough in the first place.
©2008
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An Update 
Theresa we wish you all the very best, in all that you do. Your time, effort, and selflessness with this club (and on a personal level) has been incomparable, we will eagerly be anticipating your return. 
Adoration
