Vanity

My last post was mean-spirited, says my wife.  I had written about a visit to my dermatologist, where I had seen before and after photographs of patients on whose faces or necks he had performed minor plastic surgery.  While the surgical interventions were successful – bags under the eyes were lightened, fat around the neck was lessened, etc. – I saw only minor improvements in the patients’ overall appearance.  In the case of three ugly men, they remained ugly after their surgery. 

Perhaps you didn’t see much improvement, my wife told me, but they probably did and it gave them more confidence.  She told me of a young woman whose relationships with men were transformed after breast reduction surgery, although no one but her saw any need for it.  Where, my wife asked me, was your sympathy for these patients’ pain and expense and for the emotional distress that led to their seeking surgical relief?

The day after this mild scolding, Saturday morning, I had the honor and privilege of delivering, to our prayer group, a commentary on the week’s bible portion.  I put on a black turtleneck sweater and a tweed jacket.  No, that won’t do, I told myself as I looked at myself in a full-length mirror.  I changed jackets.  Then I noticed that the skullcap I was wearing, the one I had bought in Abu Simbel, clashed with my jacket.  So I changed to a blue one.  But the blue cap clashed with my silk square, so I had to replace the square.  After I had replaced the square, I looked at myself in the mirror again, posing for animal crackers, as my father used to say, and pronounced myself satisfied.

And then I laughed.  I was scarcely different, I realized, from those patients who had undergone plastic surgery to such little effect.  All of us wanted to look our best.  Yet for all my efforts, my overall appearance would have changed no more than theirs.  The members of my prayer group would see a bent, wrinkled old man, no matter what skullcap, jacket, or silk square I was wearing.  If they were thinking about anyone’s appearance, it was their own, not mine.  So, if it’s possible to learn anything new at 80, I hope I’ve learned that I should examine myself before criticizing others.


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