Beauty & the Beast

I've been wondering lately how different life would have been if I'd ever been thin or acceptably average when I was young. (Not that I consider myself old now, but more "youngish" than "young".)

Don't worry - this isn't going to be some depressed rant. I'm just working through the dynamics of what it means to be beautiful. Having never been so in the typical, socially-approved sense, I see beautiful people as almost alien. The concept of being desirable is quite foreign to me.

I have moments, sometimes days, when I feel somewhat physically attractive. And, though I'm heavier than I've ever been in my life and my teenage acne has never bothered to clear up and my hair is *gasp* getting a little thinner, I actually feel less self-conscious about myself and more confident than I've ever been in my life. So I'm not whining - just wondering.

Beauty in the strict sense of mating is understandable: Finding someone that can draw you in with just their appearance is not limited to our species. But it's all the worth as a being based on physicality that our species adds into it that confounds me.

I was watching Pride & Prejudice the other day with my aunt, and there was a short documentary on Jane Austen in the DVD's bonus materials. The entire documentary was plain and simple - until the interview clips with Keira Knightley. Here is this beautiful, talented young woman talking about being in an Austen film . . . and it was so ridiculously obvious they had touched up her face. Why? It's a freakin' documentary!

That frustrates me to no end. She was the only person in the entire documentary to whom that editing was done. So... here's the message that sends to me, who has so many obvious faults to begin with: Even Keira isn't good enough.

Now, I can deal with this because I find it more irritating and laughable than I do depressing. And I realize I'm a graphics geek and more likely to notice this kind of thing. But... but what about my little sister (whom I think is utterly adorable just the way she is) who's 13 and in the midst of all that self-esteem angst (or will be eventually)? Or even someone as old as I am, in a similar situation, but who's yet to get the "whatever" point to which I've come?

I'm not looking for answers, and I don't expect society to change. But it is simultaneously exasperating and freeing to realize someone like me can't even get into the game, let alone play it. I get to take notes from the sidelines and walk away (usually alone, but at least without any pretences) when I get tired of it all.

OK, enough of that seriousness. I found this post extremely amusing: Rethinking the Number of the Beast.