I was in line at the grocery store standing behind three girls; all black, all quirky teenager, all kinky-trying-to-resist-being-straightened hair. They were looking at a magazine cover which touted “The Most Beautiful Woman,” with a picture of Gwyneth Paltrow, all white, all confident adult, all glossy blonde hair. Without thinking, I, all sunburned, all sassy half-century old, all gray hair, leaned into their circle-looking at the picture with them, said, “She ain’ all that.”
“No, she ain’ all that,” replied the tallest girl.
The other two agreed and they walked out the store.
Since when does People magazine get to tell us who’s beautiful, and by comparison, who’s not?