Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Not too long ago, my mother and I had a conversation during which we asked each other “Given the choice of being judged by the world as beautiful or being judged by yourself alone as beautiful, what would you choose?” It was an “either/or” question; you couldn’t have both. And, it was not a question about so-called inner beauty. It was directed solely towards that superficial, only-skin-deep, Vogue Magazine kind of beauty.

For my mother and me, it was a no-brainer. We chose being seen as beautiful in the eyes of the world. We decided we would love to wake up one day and suddenly be declared stunning. Strong jaw-line. Chiseled nose. Almond-shaped eyes. Flawless complexion. Shiny, healthy hair. And, a body to beat the band. All in all, a cross between Sophia Loren, Elizabeth Taylor, and Christie Brinkley.

So, what does that say about us?

Foremost, it suggests that each of us really needs to get a life and move on from these inane conversations, but beyond that, it also offers a couple of mildly interesting, if not futile questions and observations:

Are our own self-images so fragile and dismissive that it matters not what we think, only what the world thinks? Could be. Majority rules, right? After all, we frequently defer to public opinion, especially in matters where we have minimal hands-on knowledge. When we were told that Iraq had WMD, who were we to argue? When we were told that the climate is changing, we nodded in agreement. Likewise, if the world were to pronounce us beautiful, I think we’d eventually acquiesce, despite our own misgivings.

Therein, however, lies the dilemma. This little exercise in futility doesn’t allow for acceptance of our own beauty at the same time that the world proclaims it. Remember - It’s either/or. Having made our choice, the world now sees us as gorgeous and we are no longer afforded the indulgence of conceit. Sort of a Catch 22, right? You get your wish, the world thinks you’re beautiful, but you’re left with the same old ugly self-image. In other words, nothing has changed.

Conversely, you think you’re beautiful, but no one else does, and you’re left with this bogus self-image, which while personally satisfying, counts you among the American Idol-wannabe’s who can’t sing but think they can and are ultimately destroyed when the truth is revealed.

Yet, in some respects, everything changes if we get our wish. Despite our own reservations, everywhere we go, people react to us as beautiful women. Life is a little easier. People automatically like us and people are automatically attracted to us. Because we continue to view ourselves as two hideous lepers, we also project this wonderfully innocent humility that endears us to everyone even more. We are popular; we are desirable; we are loved.


Ugly people, and even the average, on the other hand, have to work harder at being loved. We have to first guide the public to look beyond the flaws. We have to have talent, skill, or some other nuisance thing of redeeming value. Second, we have to attempt to disguise the flaws. Lots of money and makeup would be required. And, third, we have to present winning personalities that outweigh the flaws. That takes some doing. Let’s face it, by the time we’re done, we’re too tired to achieve success.

Of course, the alternative, where you’re the only one in the world who thinks you’re beautiful, also holds promise. Filled with conceit, albeit undeserved, you don’t have to work as hard as the ugly and the average. The mirror says you’re the fairest of them all. You can relax; people will naturally flock to you. There’s no work in hiding invisible flaws; there’s no work in overcoming them. It doesn’t matter that people may not be flocking to you because you can always point to a host of reasons for the flock failure, none of which have anything to do with your looks. Self-denial in this respect is its own reward. And, any doubt is instantly removed with that magic mirror.

So, there it is in a nutshell. We made our choice because, unwittingly, we chose an easier way to be considered desirable and gain love. That’s what it said about us.

Next time my mother and I have a philosophical conversation, we should begin with “First, let’s get a life; then we’ll talk.”