When reading the novel 1984 by British author George Orwell on my way home from school today, I stumbled upon a part where the beauty of a middle aged woman, weary from work, is described.

“It had never before occured to him that the body of a woman of fifty, blown up to monstrous dimensions by childbearing, the hardened, roughened by work till it was coarse in the grain like an over-ripe turnip, could be beautiful. But it was so, and after all, he thought, why not? The solid, contourless body, like a block of granite, and the rasping red skin, bore the same relation to the body of a girl as the rose-hip to the rose. Why should the fruit be held inferior to the flower?

      'She's beautiful,' he murmured.

     'She's a metre across the hips, easily', said Julia.

     That is her style of beauty,' said Winston.”

Indeed beauty is often overseen, which this text reminded me of. It also made me think of the above seen illustration I did the other week, of a well-shaped person, posing steadily on two big feet, secure of his or her style of beauty.

Have a great friday evening!!