This weekend I got a zit. That pesky, little mountain of puss that likes to surface on my chin every so often. It usually likes to show its fabulous self after I consume ungodly amounts of Dr. Pepper. Aka post-marathon week.
I kinda started freaking out. I washed my face rigorously. Again and again. I poked and pinched. I even tried new ways of smiling too hide it.
And when the little devil didn't seem to be reducing its ginormous size, I resorted to applying loads and loads of makeup. Thank God for coverup.
Later that night, I was alone in my professor's house [housesitting].
Flipping through channels, I found a gem of a show entitled "Too
Ugly to Love." For some reason I stopped to see what it was about.
All the while, subconsciously, I was thinking I was the perfect candidate
for this show. "Check out the size of that zit..."
"Too Ugly to Love" was a documentary that followed three sufferers of
BDD, Body Dysmorphic Disorder. It attempted to help them face their
biggest FEAR, the way they look. Those afflicted are overly conscious about
their appearance. They imagine themselves to be severely disfigured, too
grotesque to even be around people.
Granted, these people don't actually have anything wrong with their faces.
They're all perfectly normal. However, their desire for beauty consumes
them. They have no friends, because they don't want anyone to see their
"ugly" faces. They have no money, because they spend it all trying to fix
themselves. They fear cameras and bright lights and the unforgiving stares
of others. Leaving the house is always a huge ordeal. All they really have
is a mirror, and the cold reminder that they aren't the way they wish
themselves to be.
I suppose that we all have a bit of BDD, don't we? Obviously, the
degree to which we suffer greatly varies, but we all believe there
is something inherently wrong with us. I'm not tall enough. My arms
never look good in shirts. My nose is too large for my face. My thighs
jiggle when I walk. My hair is too thin. My chin is too pointy. My lips
aren't full enough. The laundry list of faults we conjure up for ourselves
goes on and on...
We're all guilty. We all allow our appearance to consume our lives,
whether or not we are locking ourselves away in the safety of our homes.
In a culture obsessed with beauty, it's almost impossible not to
fall into the BDD snare. There is always someone more beautiful with
a whiter smile, thicker hair, and a better swimsuit body. We just can't
help but wish for the greener grass on the other side.
It may sound cheesy, but I believe I'm disappointing my Creator when I
have these thoughts. I mean, think about it. He made me, zits and all, just
like this. This is exactly the way He wanted me, because my God doesn't
make mistakes. He could have formed me to be a six-foot, curly-headed
basketball wonder. But He didn't. I can't help but think, if my appearance is good enough for the most important Being in this universe, shouldn't I be
okay with it?
Bring on the zits.
"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in
my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and
wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well."