If Everyone Was a Beaut, Would Anyone Be? Just Wondering

When we were kids, we were tough.  We could take abuse.  It made us who we are today.  No one was concerned about our feelings.  We just took it.  Our shortcomings were shouted from the rooftops.

A particularly painful moment for me was the day, probably about this time of year, when I was crammed into the school bookstore with dozens upon dozens of my fellow seniors being measured for our caps and gowns.

No fears.  What could go wrong?

Suddenly a woman wrapped a measuring tape around my head and there, before my peers,  I was made aware that I was not like everyone else.  In a voice like  that of Foghorn Leghorn, the woman shouted across the room, "We're probably going to have to special order this one."  It was then I knew.  I had a "Cannon Head!"  Until then, I was innocent.  After that, I, and everyone knew.

I lived with it, however.  I've not gone into counseling over it.  I'm aware that I have a ginormous head and huge feet (size 11) to balance it out.  I'm also loud, sarcastic and not the most sensitive soul on the planet.  I still go outside without fear of mockery.  In fact, my brothers and I laugh about the size of our melons thinking that perhaps we could win contests with them somewhere.

In today's world, we shield everyone from the truth.  We don't keep score because we don't want losers to realize that fact that they lost.  All little girls are princesses, little boys are princes.  When I taught at LDSBC, most who got less than an A developed near-apoplexy.  There is a school-of-thought that says that we shouldn't even give out grades.

I'm not advocating meanness.  I'm advocating a little more realism, is all.  Most of us are real cute.  But definitely not real beauties or really handsome.  Most of us are smart enough to get by, but not genius-level brains.  Most of us aren't really fooled either, by people pretending that we are.  We're just people and if people let us, most of us don't mind being us, either.  Perhaps helping us laugh a little more at our short-comings would help.  Or maybe telling us that you like us for our stringy hair would bond us forever.

The picture above?  Helena Bonham Carter's head was made three sizes too large for Alice in Wonderland.  She's still pretty cute.  And the rest of the crowd had prosthetic devices to uglify themselves to make her feel better about herself.  Would that really work?