“There’s nothing less powerful in this world than an ugly woman and nothing more powerful than a beautiful one,” a friend of mine utters in a crowded bar, sipping on her whiskey sour. I look at her for a second, pondering her words. We have been talking about beauty and the injustice of it, her with her hair curled and me in a dress the size of a napkin, which I probably won’t wear again because, let’s face it, it doesn’t do much for my boobs. I can’t help but fixate on the second part of the statement.
Evelyn Hugo and the Curse of Beautiful Women
Evelyn Hugo and the Curse of Beautiful Women
Evelyn Hugo and the Curse of Beautiful Women
“There’s nothing less powerful in this world than an ugly woman and nothing more powerful than a beautiful one,” a friend of mine utters in a crowded bar, sipping on her whiskey sour. I look at her for a second, pondering her words. We have been talking about beauty and the injustice of it, her with her hair curled and me in a dress the size of a napkin, which I probably won’t wear again because, let’s face it, it doesn’t do much for my boobs. I can’t help but fixate on the second part of the statement.