That’s Why You’re Beautiful, by Martha Thomases – Brilliant Disguise
October 10, 2009 Martha Thomases 8 Comments
On Sunday, I took a walk on a beautiful New York afternoon, the kind of clear, crisp fall day that is so gorgeous it inspires Manhattanites to expect a plane to fly into a building. Trying to rid my mind of that disturbing association, I eavesdropped on conversations of the other people on Fifth Avenue.
Not in a creepy way. More like the ambient soundtrack of a Robert Altman film.
Near West 12th Street, I found myself alongside a mother and her daughter. The little girl was maybe four years old, with blonde curls, a striped t-shirt, a green skirt, knee socks and sneakers. Her mother, pushing a stroller full of backpacks, looked much the same, although her hair was darker and she was wearing jeans. Together, they were a particularly adorable example of a West Village madonna and child.
“I’m beautiful,” said the little girl.
“Yes, you are,” her mother agreed.
“That’s because I’m wearing a skirt,” explained the child.
“No, it’s because you’re beautiful,” mom said.
“I’m even more beautiful than you,” the little girl said, under her breath.
“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” mom said, not angry. “That hurts people’s feelings, when you say something like that.” She continued, ‘Everyone has her own kind of beauty.”
At this point, I walked ahead. I had to. Mom was doing a fine job, especially after what seemed to have been a long, tiring day in the park, and I was about to interrupt. Here’s what I would have said:
You aren’t beautiful because you’re wearing a skirt. You aren’t beautiful because you have blonde, curly hair. You aren’t beautiful because of the symmetry of your features, or the obviously great genetic material you inherited from your mother.
That, however, is only physical beauty. Physical beauty comes and goes. It changes with fashion, and with time. Sometimes we consider big tits and big hips to be beautiful; sometimes we don’t. Sometimes small noses are the thing, and sometimes they aren’t. The way to be truly beautiful is from the inside. Your face and your figure reflect what you do. If you have a good heart, it will show through.
That took me to Washington Square. As I walked through the park, I stopped talking to the girl in my head (silently, you’ll be happy to know) and started to argue with myself instead.
Why is it important to this little girl to be beautiful? Are four year old boys walking around, asking their fathers if they are beautiful? I don’t think so. I think four year old boys want to do things. Their fathers, and the greater culture at large, encourage them to accomplish, so they can attract a beautiful mate and beautiful things.
Beauty, especially physical beauty, is passive. It exists for our admiration. While I like admiration as much as the next emotionally insecure narcissist, I try not to consider it the purpose of my life. If one strives only for beauty, one is at the mercy of not only the passing of styles, but also the passing of time. If it’s the purpose of your life, you’re setting yourself up to fail.
The great rabbis of history say the purpose of a Jewish life is to leave the world better than one finds it.
At the very least, I’d like to leave the world an amazing comic book collection.
Media Goddess Martha Thomases has looked better.
Howard Cruse
October 10, 2009 - 7:23 am
At age four I was unaware of the concept of “being beautiful,” particularly as an attribute that might conceivably be applied to boys. Seven or eight years later, however, I began (albeit subconsciously at first) began being anxious about whether or not I could be considered sexy. I was eighteen before I got a little validation on that front.
My mother recounted a poignant incident from her childhood when she was a child when a relative came to visit. After greeting my mom was greeted by this relative warmly, her sister ran into the room and the relative said, “And here comes the pretty one!”
Mom was middle-aged when the included this brief incident in a reminiscence about her childhood. Comments like that can clearly have a lingering impact.
Martha Thomases
October 10, 2009 - 8:33 am
@Howard: I’ve always thought you gorgeous. But then, Eddie and I seem to have the same taste in guys.
Frank Miller
October 10, 2009 - 10:49 am
You’re beautiful Martha.
Can you leave me your Dakota North collection? And by the way, could she hire Black Cat? She’s looking to set up her own detective agency, and it’s not working out, particularly with the Puma as a partner.
Alan Coil
October 10, 2009 - 1:09 pm
Boys don’t ask if they are beautiful. They don’t seek validation that way. They have a built in meter that tells them they are valid, at least until the first time they have to shower after gym class.
Reg
October 10, 2009 - 7:44 pm
@ Martha…
Lovely, poignant, and accurate observations. My earnest wish is that we are somehow granted the time to mature as a species and finally, finally grow to understand and appreciate the fact that our greatest beauty, gift, and benefit emanates from that small, yet vital organ that is colored gray…and which houses that ineffable and intangible thing called a soul.
ed zarger
October 10, 2009 - 9:30 pm
I always used to think that it was a part of my job to realize that each person was beautiful in some manner, and to do my best to affirm that, or to be aware of it, in some manner. It gives a person the state of mind that each person coming in (stranger or familiar) is somehow special – a special encounter.
And just a slight variance from Reg’s thinking. Although I’m not sure where the soul resides (except as something that most of us use as foundation for our journey — sorry — bad pun.), I’d not want to center our value on the brain. Experience with Alzheimers’ convinces me that it’s not what we know or remember that is important, but who we are at the core. Martha used the term “heart”, maybe more to my liking. But, terminology aside, we’re in agreement.
pennie
October 11, 2009 - 8:37 am
A particularly gorgeous piece of writing from a lovely columnist on this spectacularly beautiful day!
Uncle Robbie
October 12, 2009 - 7:01 pm
My second favorite overheard conversation happened several years ago while I was riding an elevator at the mall. A girl of about 9 was with me and was joined by her mother on another floor. Here’s how it played:
Mom: Hi sweetie.
Girl: So I’m old enough to ride alone on an elevator, but I’m not old enough for a cell phone?
Mom: It’s a conundrum, isn’t it?
This was followed by two floors of pointed silence.