You Are Beautiful (Re-Post from 3/31/11)
William D. SIEMER II
I
am tired. I'm getting older. Age has taken a toll on my body and my
appearance. The rates of wrinkles, crevices, and bags under my eyes are
only increasing.
I
wake up, get a shower, put on some clothes, and head out the door for
work. I get into my equally worn Ford Focus, and glance up at the
rear-view mirror. Staring back at me is a man who has seen better,
younger days. This is only the beginning...
Every
day I drive the same stretch of Cincinnati highway, so every day I see
the same billboards. They are mainly littered with ads for hospitals,
digital internet providers, and miscellaneous retail stores. However, on
this day I am feeling particularly self-conscience, and apparently more
aware. I pass the downtown sport's arena and see a large digital
display promoting $1,500 eyelid plastic surgery. Hmmm... my eyelids are
looking a little saggy. The next billboard that catches my eyes is a
surgeon who touts performing "3,000 facelifts." That might help get rid
of my crow's feet and sunken eyes. Another billboard. Another facelift.
That will assist with "The Tracks of My Tears" and the canals leading
from my nose to mouth. In total, I passed six billboards for plastic
surgery within 10 miles. I would make some Michael Jackson reference,
but I'm actually a fan so I will leave it at that.
Maybe
I chose the wrong profession. I get a few hundred dollars for advanced
Photoshop editing--these doctors get a few thousand. That's not the
point (I don't actually do much digital facial reconstruction.) However,
how many times do we need to exploit the insecurities of people with
the promise of youth, the forecasts of before and after, and the hopeful
advancements of skin care products?
As
I've aged, I've realized that beauty truly does come from within.
Furthermore, I now find beauty in "flaws." After all, everyone has their
own idiosyncrasies that make up their personality, so why not
characteristics that distinguish their individuality? Gray hair is a
color in my palette; a wrinkle is a simple stroke from my brush; old age
is a priceless Van Gogh painting.
I
didn't buy into my own philosophy a few years ago. I remember writing
the following lyrics, "I'm sorry that I'm not the person you want, I'm
not symmetrical and my body's not proportional. I'm not the pretty face
in your magazine. Oh no, I'm not."
Still,
I may not be the pretty face in your magazine, but I am trying to
embrace my aging. Wiser? I don't know, but I need to come to terms with
reality. I'll end up looking like my father, mother, grandfather,
grandmother, and that's fine. I'm tired, but so is everyone else.
If
I had infinite money, maybe I'd purchase those six billboards to tell
you you're beautiful the way you are. Sure, I'd be putting people out of
business, but maybe the doctors could concentrate their efforts
elsewhere. I am not against people resorting to facial reconstruction.
All I am asking is to consult with people around you, and look at
yourself as a piece of art.
Some
of the most beautiful pieces of art do not concentrate on
perfectionism, but on substance. What are the impressions, moods, and
beauty of the message? Look deeper.
My
message is you are beautiful. Hopefully, someday I’ll realize this is
true of me. I am a perfectionist, but I need to make peace with the face
in the rear-view mirror, so someday I again ignore the billboards that
eluded me for all this time.
