The Body Lottery (my body #3)

Everyone I know has a body, and hardly anyone would consider themselves a winner in the body lottery.  When I walk down the street I often see a beautiful woman and think ‘I wish I could have that body’, but then, as if the magical gods who could actually make that wish come true, are about to do it, I balk—what if she has cancer, or heart disease, or is stupid, or colorblind, or whatever… and I remind myself; be careful what you wish for, you may get it. Not that I wouldn’t like a great body, or my idea of one, which is very likely different from yours.  Sure we’d all like long shapely legs, but after that it’s a lot of personal preferences from blond or brunette, to fresh faced or sultry, or bigger or smaller breasts…  Like the upgrade packages when you buy a car.

We all start with a genetic cocktail that determines a good deal of how we’ll look, and as siblings demonstrate, those similar ingredients can yield a wide variety of characteristics.  Unlike me, my brother is quite tall, and what hair he has is blond, we both have blue eyes, though only our father had them. It’s a lottery and we’re almost all both winners and losers.  Some people are willing to spend a lot of time devoted to changing their bodies (at least externally) spending hours at the gym sculpting and  firming.  Others go to plastic surgeons to fix what they believe needs repair.  

What I hate about myself may be something you covet, what I don’t notice may be your obsession.  I grew up on Long Island, land of the nose job.  I knew many girls who wanted their noses corrected, and chiseled to some WASP-y ideal of pertness.  Almost all of them ended up sharing a certain blankness about their faces.  Even if you didn’t know them pre-surgery, they all had the look of something missing.  Because I didn’t feel bad about my nose (one of the few features I don’t feel bad about)  I didn’t and don’t notice other people’s noses.  I notice the features of others that I most loathe about myself.  

When I was in high school there was a girl named Jane.  She had the kind of body that was and still is a mystery to me.  From the waist up she was thin, if you saw her sitting down you’d think she was thin, but from the waist down she was big.  And not just bigger, but disproportionately big, as if someone had grafted two completely different bodies together at the waist.  Her body type is not uncommon, though Jane’s body was an extreme example, but even at the time, when I was a bit, but not incredibly overweight, I was jealous of Jane’s body because the top half of her—the part you mostly looked at was thin, and you could see how fat I was (or thought I was) from any angle or vantage point.  I’m sure Jane didn’t feel she’d won the lottery, despite that to me, though she hadn’t won the grand prize, she was at least taking home some loot; half a good body was better than none…

Even as write this I feel some degree of shame at my petty self-indulgence and self-pity. Many of my flaws of are of my own making.  The rest are probably not as bad to you as the seem to me.  My body works just fine.  I have not spent a moment of my life worrying about whether I would have enough to eat, or feed my child; I have not suffered any catastrophic illness or injury, so why am I whining about something I can control, at least theoretically.   I do have that genetic cocktail shaking around in me; that and my body lottery ticket both conspiring and collaborating to bestow on me gifts and gaffes.  I am pretty smart, yet I love rich, fatty foods, I have pretty blue eyes and a nice nose, but a double chin and thighs that rub together no matter how much or little I weigh…  Yep, not a winner in the body lottery, but I believe I’ve got better things to worry about!

image courtesy of https://facebook.com/notadiet