Pretty People

In the world of pretty people, all is not always what it seems.

The restaurant staff is primarily a collection of very thin, very blonde and strikingly pretty young women - none with a care in the world other than to make pocket money, none with the first line on their face, none with the least idea of the real world. But they know how to smile and be pleasant, how to balance a tray, how to pour wine and make small talk and that's all that's required. They all carry lip gloss in their aprons and keep a cell phone in their back pocket so they can discreetly answer text messages - a ringing cell would be grounds for dismissal - and they all seem to be theatre or art majors, passing time between classes and driving shiny new SUV's. They don't look any further ahead than their next table and tip. From back in the retail shop - the adult section where no one is under 25 - we watch them twitter and hop about, hips swinging and pony tails bouncing, pouty lips and gleaming, too-white teeth in wide smiles. It's like watching a chincilla take a dust bath - all motion and disturbed air.

But this is youth, flat abs and tight butts, energy, flawless optimism. We dismiss, envy, and like them all at the same time. They have not experienced disillusion or heartache other than a failing grade, have yet to leave the protection of their families, don't understand the word "no" and don't care to. Their horizons are blue and cloudless, stretching endlessly toward a bright and happy future with perfect, pink edged sunsets and mornings that always begin with sleeping late and a fiber based hot breakfast. There are no unmade beds or dirty dishes, no ends to make meet, no timeclocks, no weight to watch. This is youth, with one foot in the adult world and one still at home - naive, unafraid,
cheerful and poised, all their dreams intact. They will inherit the world and care for it, burdens and all. What kind of caretakers will they turn out to be, I wonder, what kind of world will they create. May it be a green and peaceful one and may all their dreams come true for they are but children on the very edge of responsibility and adulthood. It's an uncertain world we will leave them and pretty will not be enough.

I suspect that there may be steel beneath their pretty faces.