If you know of that show, "The Brady Bunch," there is an episode in which Marcia gets hit in the face with a football. Her nose swells up and she doesn't look too great for the upcoming dance with her date. All sorts of insecurities and anxieties surrounding her physical appearance ensue, and while I can't remember what the pithy moral of the episode is, the reaction she feels toward her physical marring is definitely worth unpacking.
About a month ago, I had a few drinks, lost my footing, and fell face down on a set of stairs. Seven stitches and no small amount of sacrificed dignity later, I've been left with a small mark above my right eye, partially obscured by my eyebrow. Little did I know, that after all of my altruistic, sweeping rhetoric about the body being frail and the spirit being boundless, yadadada, all it would take to completely confound me is a little mark above my eye. Suddenly, I'm staring into the mirror with immense scrutiny, interpreting every little facet of my battle wound as an ominous display of hideousness that will inhabit my face forevermore. What happened to, "Embrace your body"? What happened to, "No one and nothing can remove your personal agency from exerting total free will over your own emotions and mental state of being"? One tiny, little mark above my eye and every single conviction I felt about spiritual and mental well-being was completely subverted, upended, and smashed into oblivion. "Look at this mark! My face has been altered in some fashion! I don't even have a cool story to tell about it!" The wound to my face and my reaction to it afterward illustrated for me how much of my own volition I had relinquished to a sort of superficial yearning for physical perfection, and it reminded me how important it is to maintain a level perspective on myself in relation to others and the world around me.
It's amazing how much credence we place in our physical appearance: the shapes of our bodies, the looks of our faces, the state of our sartorial elegance, etc. We are our own most scrutinizing critics. "I look fat, I don't look good in that color, I need to lose 20lbs., my legs are too short to wear that dress, my arms aren't big enough to fill out that style of shirt." The list goes on....and....on. The amount of things I dislike about myself, from physical appearance to mental well-being, would span further down this page than you'd have patience or interest to read. But why? Why do we critique ourselves so harshly? Think about this: when you see someone wearing something silly, or behaving in a manner that is unorthodox, or perhaps has an interesting physical attribute, does it make you care so much to the point that you've drastically altered your perception of him or her? Do you remember forever thereafter and is it seared into your brain eternally? Most likely not. Because we're all so concerned with our own petty and vain little selves, we can easily forget the maladies of others and, frankly, others' so-called physical maladies don't really factor into our perception of them as the kind of people they are any how.
Men and women alike usually share a mutual attraction toward that one thing we all love about a person: confidence. There is nothing more unattractive than witnessing somebody, especially someone you love or find physically attractive, self-deprecate unnecessarily. Being around someone who is so self-deprecating makes you feel uncomfortable, because you simply think, "Why? Why does she care so much about that petty insignificant thing? Why does he constantly gripe about that?" How many people do you know or have you met who are incredibly attractive, yet as soon as they open their mouths you think, "Oh." And then how many people do you know who aren't necessarily Brad Pitt's brothers, but you find them incredibly attractive any how? "It's not what's on the outside, but what's on the inside that counts." We've all heard that trite adage so many times, especially as we were growing up and being reprimanded for making fun of others--but, trite or not, it's true.
Every day I look in the mirror and wish to myself that I was fitter, was this, was that, was whatever. I'm sure I'm not alone in that boat. But during the winter season of your life, when the days are short and the nights are long, and you find yourself in a reflective state, reminiscing on the experiences of your life, do you really think the physical appearance you maintained will be the most significant aspect of your time here? These earth-suits we're wearing are all the same: organic soft tissue with an expiration date. Frankly, they're pretty frail and weak. In an instant, any one of us could be squished like a tiny pancake by the infinite number of unknown dangers threatening to bring about our demise. Don't get me wrong, I so firmly believe that the quality of your life can be exponentially increased by living a healthy lifestyle. Exercising regularly, eating healthily, and seeking spiritual solace are tantamount to living a fulfilling life. But there is a strong difference between sojourning toward healthier living and self-debasing in a misguided attempt to achieve physical improvement. I become so dismayed and frustrated when I listen to people gripe about their physical state and feel driven by shame to strive toward something they think is better. "I want to lose 10lbs., I want to become toner, I want to be stronger." Those are all absolutely great goals. There is nothing more gratifying than watching your own body transform and take shape before your eyes. But just do it and don't think about it. Don't constantly measure yourself against others, against societal pressures, and don't stare at yourself in the mirror endlessly. Just close your eyes, stick to your game plan, and after some time has passed you will look up and not believe how far you've come.
I won't lie and pretend that my little mark doesn't test the strains of my vanity to some degree when I look in the mirror. While it is obviously not the most serious injury to befall an individual, I do look at it with a mild expression of consternation. But it serves as a perpetual test to the notion that while the body is indeed frail, the spirit is always boundless. Perhaps the reason dispensable advice rolls off my tongue so easily is because I'm the absolute worst at emulating it. It is so much easier to articulate rhetoric about spiritual and mental well-being from the safe vantage point afforded by these keys than it is to exhibit in the day-to-day when your emotions are real, pervasive, and ever-present. My wound will heal...probably faster than my dignity will. Yet my uncharacteristic reaction to it strongly illustrated that if one is so concerned about a physical aspect of his or her body, then perhaps the concern is actually a manifestation of some far greater underlying issue. In other words, I think abnormal obsession over a self-acknowledged deficiency necessitates greater introspection. Just ask yourself, "Why?"
"The knowledge of yourself will preserve you from vanity." -Miguel de Cervantes
