In the eye of the beholder

As I was walking past a mirror today, I did what I always do; glance at my reflection, squint at my nose and start pinching and pulling at it in vain to (hah) make it ‘sharper’. Basically, what I was trying to do was to conform to the idea of what society deemed as ‘Beauty’, and that is, to have a nose although not as Nicole-Kidman-ish, but at least one that has a reasonably well-defined structure. And evidently, it’s something that I lack around the nasal department.

And it got me thinking, how the idea of beauty plays such a big role in our daily life. If you’re beautiful, doors naturally open wider and more frequently for you.

There will be others who disagree with me. Beautiful people might say that I discriminate against them and that they’re more often than not, not taken seriously. To those of you, I say, Bullshit. I know for a fact that beautiful people KNOW they’re beautiful and LOVE being beautiful. Then there are those who say that beauty is skin-deep. Even more bullshit. No one believes in that anymore. If beauty is only skin-deep, why do we have cosmetics companies popping up like mushrooms after a rainy day? If beauty is only skin-deep, why are we making sure that the head-honchos of MNG, Zara, and Burberry etc are able to buy their BMWs and go on holidays to the Pacific Islands? If beauty is only skin-deep, why is Jenny Craig still in business?

In truth, EVERYONE wants to be beautiful. What separates each of us from the other is our degree of vanity. You might be someone who’s always coiffured and immaculately dressed and accessorized, taking each day armed with a bottle of heavy-duty mascara and a pair of fake eyelashes from MAC (does MAC sell fake eyelashes?). Or you may be someone who’s contented to dab on moisturizer everyday and draw on a little bit of eyeliner before stepping out of the house. Either way, you’re still guilty of wanting to be beautiful.

And then I thought, Shit, being beautiful actually pays off…and that’s just it. I’m not beautiful. I’m average-looking. Shit, actually, I’m not even average-looking; I’m about 2.7cm below the average-looking line.

Die.

To make myself feel better, I started making up excuses about why being 2.7cm below the average-looking line wasn’t that bad after all.

There might be a grain of truth in what the beautiful people have to say. Those who are aesthetically pleasing may sometimes not be treated seriously. Think of the terms that we have coined these days: Bimbo, Airhead, Barbie Doll (sadly they’re all derogatory female terms). Pretty people have it hard…sometimes. I know that I would hate being brushed off when I present my ideas or opinions…or being spoken condescendingly to whenever I put my two cents worth into the conversation.

Then there is always the problem of unwanted attention when you’re beautiful. Attention is good, when it’s in small quantities. Heck, even if it comes in moderate quantities, like getting the attention of everyone in the room when you walk in is FAN-fcuk-TASTICALLY amazing. But not when you walk down the streets and you get old men in stained white singlets slurping black coffee from chipped teacups leering at you from the safety of a kopitiam. Or when you pass by a whole bunch of mat-rempits wolf-whistling at you and thinking that they (and you) are the best creations on Jalan Telawi.

And then there’s a question of love. To be loved when you know you’re not good-looking is the best feeling in the world. To know that the person you’re sharing your emotions, problems and happiness with loves you for who you are and not because you’re pleasing to look is absolutely satisfying. I think this is pretty much self-explanatory. If I looked like Angelina Jolie (which I still repeat in my prayers every night before I go to bed), I’d be a paranoid wreck…not because I’m afraid Brad Pitt will leave me for another woman (cos I know I’d be THE most fabulous, so there’s really no one he can leave me for) but because I’d be wondering whether he likes me for being the ambassador of a lot of charitable organizations, for being witty, for being me or because I look stunning in that little black dress and will complement him wonderfully in paparazzi pictures.

Get my drift?

So girls, if you’re born beautiful, congratulations. Heaven must’ve smiled upon you. If you’re like me, born 2.7cm below the average-looking line, or heck, if you’ve got better luck than me and you’re born average-looking…cheer up. There’s no need to smile at your beautiful friends by day and hex them with curses by night…just accept it, add more eyeliner and know that being average-looking (or in my case, 2.7cm below average-looking line) isn’t so bad after all.


(i'm blogging tonight because i'm sick of assignments...yes...like a car that's run out of petrol due to the recent price-hike because my owner refuses to pay that extra ringgit...i cannot tahan anymore)