Quotes About Appearance

I'm not fond of Trisha. Any girl who wears clogs can't be trusted.

While Megara's deep red hair and pale skin resembled her father's, she shared her mother's unusual violet eyes. Their eyes were so magnetic a day didn't go by when someone in the street or at the market didn't comment on them.

When I hug her, I notice she's still wearing yesterday's false eyelashes. Mom? You know those come off with a little makeup remover and a cotton pad?" I'm not taking them off." Why not?" I spent $180 on that makeup job and I refuse to wash my face until I get my money's worth.

Our environment shapes everything from our drinking habits to our financial situations to our physical appearance, and the longer we immerse ourselves in certain surroundings, the more they influence us.

We use celebrity "news" to perpetuate this dehumanizing view of females, focused solely on one's physical appearance, which tabloids turn into a sporting event of speculation. Is she pregnant? Is she eating too much? Has she let herself go? Is her marriage on the rocks because the camera detects some physical "imperfection"?

You are very cross tonight, Hart. Perhaps the lady disappointed you." Hart stared at her over the glass he'd started to raise. "What lady?" "The one whose perfume you positively reak of." His brows went up."You mean the Countess von Hohenstahlen? She's eighty-two and drenches herself in scents that would make a tart blush. "Oh.

he towered over them, muscles stretching the suit he wore. He must have purchased a size too small because he looked as though he was about to tear the material when he moved

His hair was longer now, brushing the tops of his shoulders, and the weight of it made it hang straight and shiny. He'd lost more weight and gotten kind of tan. He looked about five years older. And then there was me, dressed as sushi.

A pretty girl must please the world. But an ugly girl? She's free to please herself.

She's got a big belt around her hips. It has a shiny buckle with PRADA on it, which is Italian for insecure.

But when I was a little girl, my mom always told me to be nice to everybody, no matter what they looked like or how they treated me, because I never knew who might be an angel God had sent to Earth in disguise.

The Evil Twin was either Tracey or Casey Reardon. I wasn't sure which one, and no one else seemed to either. All we knew for sure was that the twins were evil. Or, one of them was evil and the other just looked the same.

Then he folded his arms on his chest, so his biceps strained at the sleeves of his t-shirt, courtesy of the arm curl machine.

Maybe my ploy had worked. I wore a respectable shirt that buttoned down the front, only - whoops! – I must have forgotten to fasten the button over my cleavage. No respectable girl would wear her shirt open that low. (Cough.)

I understood that expensive shirts looked better than cheap shirts. The fabric wasn't shiny, no - shiny would be cheap. But it glowed, like there was light coming through from the inside. It was a fucking beautiful shirt, is what I'm saying

It is technically impossible for a man to look better in a Speedo than in swim trunks.

Bennie has light brown skin and excellent eyes, and he irons his hair in a Mohawk as shiny black as a virgin record.

Maintaining an appearance mattered as much—more—than what was underneath. The deeper things could come and go, but what broke the surface would be lodged in everyone's memory.

Ted shrank from these youths, though he was six foot four and weighed in at two hundred thirty, with a face that looked innocuous enough in the bathroom mirror but often prompted colleagues to ask him what was the matter.

I noticed one with short, raven-colored hair who looked not unlike myself (we are interchangeable--the first lesson one learns as a professional beauty).

The photos on her page had not done justice to the arresting, wide-eyed symmetry of her face, the radiant shine of her hair. She was 'clean': no piercings, tattoos or scarifications. All the kids were now. And who could blame them, Alex thought, after watching three generations of flaccid tattoos drop like moth-eaten upholstery over poorly stuffed biceps and saggy asses?" (p. 314)

Rich children are always blond, Jocelyn goes. It has to do with vitamins.

Beautiful face. Beautiful body. Horrible attitude. It was the holy trinity of hot boys.

Will you show me what you really look like? You don't sparkle, do you?