What Makes Me Beautiful?
The long version of the entry to More Magazine’s “What Makes Me Beautiful
Contest”
My birthday fell in April, I became seventy
two. This year, when my driver’s license
came up for renewal, it was required that I appear and take the written test,
and have a new photo taken. Knowing that
I would have to look at this picture for at least five years, I dressed
carefully, and put on makeup, including a bright red lipstick. I considered carefully what color flatters
me, and put on a deep royal blue tee shirt with a man’s blue and white fat
stripe shirt over it. When I looked in
the mirror, what I saw pleased me. I had
been thinking for a while about the phrase, “What makes me beautiful?” and it
occurred to me that this was close. I
was not wearing anything fancy or pricey, and I had not taken the time to put
on eye makeup, something that frequently makes my eyes itch, but as a whole, I
spoke the phrase; “not bad for an old broad” and went on my way to DMV.
This week, the license appeared in my
mail, weeks earlier than projected and I opened the envelope with great
trepidation. Anyone, everyone knows that
DMV photos are notoriously bad. Thinking that this was how my father would do
it, I reached for his old letter opener and peeked within, what I saw more than
pleased me. I looked damn good,
especially for “an old broad.” I have
been showing it around because I was so happily surprised and then I looking
again and said, aloud, “I need an eyelid lift.”
I have been going around thinking that I don’t look like 70 something
and proud of it. And here was proof,
proof that I have to look at for 5 years that I do look 70 something. Does that make me not beautiful? No, just makes me still damn good for my
age.
My mother, who is now 93 and the
prototype for Betty White, emphasized looks, in her day and mine, you got
dressed to go to the supermarket, and she went to the hairdresser every Friday,
something she still does. I think for her
and her generation, how you looked or thought you looked impacted how you felt,
and your self-esteem. Growing up, with
this role model, looking beautiful, meant and still means more to me than I
want to admit.
Beautiful is not on the outside, I
bewail that in our modern era, the outside has taken on more importance than
the inside. Beautiful on the outside is
what you are given at birth, and it is something that can be taken away in
moments, ask the model, who accidentally walked into a propeller. Beautiful on the inside is something you can cultivate.
I want to believe that the things that I do deliberately that other people
reflect back to you, your inner beauty, are the things that really make me
beautiful.
I grew up in a world of financial
comfort, my parents, also, grew up in financial comfort and it would be easy,
given that background, to be like many others, focused on doing those things
that satisfy only my own desires. But,
my parents and grandparents taught me that I have a responsibility to give
back, that having financial comfort means that one needs to work to make the
world a better place than it is today. Celebrities like George Clooney and
Angelina Jolie would probably tell you that it is not always about the money,
it is about making a difference, sometimes it’s about getting your hands
dirty. Thus I make certain to give a
little more than I think I should to various philanthropies that capture my
heart , but I also make sure to reach out and touch, doing things like making
bag lunches for the homeless shelter, washing sheets for the overnight shelter,
leading a workshop to make comfort blankets for kids from troubled families or
even co-coordinating a widow support group with another recovered widow.
And so, I make it my business to do random acts of
kindness. It is my hope that when I do
these things people perceive me as beautiful.
I take a moment out after having done one, and tell myself that it was
beautiful. Sometimes it is a simple as
holding the door for someone else whose hands are burdened or maybe I just got
to the door first, or handing a couple of pennies to someone in a checkout
line, when it appears that they are searching.
I savor having given someone something unexpected, like handing a
hamentashen (purim cookie) through an open car window in the parking lot at my
supermarket after hearing that the woman was speaking Hebrew on her cell
phone. Her smile made me feel beautiful.
I have over the years taken up art in
the form of painting and collage, among other media, and when people admire my
quirky style, I feel beautiful, I have also become a poet, unpublished as yet,
but I share my writings with those whose thoughts have inspired my words, and
when they tell me that what I have written is beautiful, I feel beautiful.
Beauty comes from inside and how we
behave and believe infuses the outside of us.
I don’t believe that it requires
looking the way society defines as beautiful to be beautiful. Not wishing to be political, but I have great
difficulty with the super rich;, not giving back to me makes them ugly. This week Facebook went public, and I read a
column in Newsweek discussing what Mark Zuckerbeg should do with his
money. Charity was mentioned but somehow
dismissed. Vast wealth should bring vast responsibility
not a vast desire to hang on to it at the cost of the quality of life of those
who cannot. It is my belief that there
needs to be in our country a desire to make the life of every individual
beautiful.
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