I opened my big-city newspaper this morning to find three
side-by-side splashy advertisements on a prominent inside page
– ads for Mercedes-Benz cars, Rolex watches, and
”
Elman green suede butterfly booties with stone accents,
”
(only $750!) from Saks Fifth Avenue.
I opened my big-city newspaper this morning to find three side-by-side splashy advertisements on a prominent inside page – ads for Mercedes-Benz cars, Rolex watches, and “Elman green suede butterfly booties with stone accents,” (only $750!) from Saks Fifth Avenue. What struck me as bizarre were the headlines on the same page: “Copter Crash Kills 2 soldiers, 4 More Die in Car Bombings.” Talk about two disparate worlds. One is a barren place of ruthless survival; the other a glittery homeland obsessed with keeping up appearances.
We Americans are infatuated with appearance. Lest you have any doubt, check out the plastic surgery stats from the American Society of Plastic Surgeons. Nearly 1.8 million people had cosmetic surgery (facelifts, liposuctions, other nips and tucks) in 2003; that didn’t count the minimally-invasive procedures, nor did it count reconstructive work for those who truly needed plastic surgery.
Why the need for picture perfect? When it comes to choosing friends, a model’s profile is nowhere on my list. (What happened to qualities worthy of admiration, like compassion, loyalty, humility and common sense?)
We’ve obviously passed the healthy desire to be attractive. I’m firmly resistant to the flawlessness standard. I have my dad’s skinny legs, my mother’s round face – maybe not movie-screen perfection, but part and parcel of my persona. As millions of others, I’m like Margery Williams’ Velveteen Rabbit – who if you’ll recall, was loved by the scarlet-fever-stricken boy – frayed and less than perfect, but nonetheless, special to someone.
Of course, these are self-esteem and personal development issues – topics that have generated millions of books and talk shows. I’m no Dr. Phil, but have noticed those with positive self-images lean toward happier lives.
I have a friend who was recently diagnosed with cancer. A tumor was discovered on her nose of all places, and it had roots like a tree trunk. Surgeons removed half the nose together with part of one cheek. The cheek skin was pulled taut over the nose to cover the gaping hole – not a pretty picture. (Thank goodness we have gifted plastic surgeons; my friend needs two surgeries to return to normality.)
We need to return to a time when the ideal person is admired for qualities of inner strength and beauty: the mother who gets up in the middle of the night to tend to a sick child; the dad who works two jobs to help make ends meet; the friend who volunteers as a mentor at the elementary school. Who cares if they have perfectly symmetrical faces?
Join me in rejecting the notion that one must have a tummy tuck, a Mercedesor green suede butterfly booties with stone accents (help us!) to live life to the fullest. What do you think? E-mail me your opinion.
