“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” (Oscar Wilde)
I have a friend who hates her hair. It’s lank and lifeless (her words), and the color is “boring brown” (again, her description). I consider her hair to be perfectly fine and never think about it until she starts bemoaning its inadequacy. When she meets someone, the very first thing she notices about them is their hair—and it’s always so much nicer than hers.
Another friend hates her teeth. When she laughs or smiles, she compresses her lips or covers her mouth, so people won’t notice her crooked teeth. I never notice her teeth, unless she draws my attention to them, and then I think they’re just fine. Imperfect teeth add a bit of character to a face (look at some of the finest British actors).
For me, it’s thigh-gap. For as long as I can remember, among the first things I notice about another person is whether there is space between their inner thighs when they’re standing or walking. I covet the notion of skinny thighs in skinny jeans. That’s because I’ve never had them and never, ever will. Even during those rare periods of my life when I was almost thinnish, my thighs were solid tree trunks, rubbing together like balloons in a Mylar birthday bouquet.
We notice and want what we don’t have. I have no particular complaints about my teeth or my hair, so I simply don’t notice what my friends always see first. Continue reading