PAUL IT ALL TOGETHER: Don’t Judge a Book by Its Cover

By CHARLENE PAUL

Moapa Valley Progress

Most of us are taught from a very young age that judging a book by its cover might very well cause us to miss the story within. Parents, grandparents, teachers, and strangers remind us that we need to open the cover in order to learn the secrets the book holds inside. Before long, we learn that the book and its pages are a metaphor for not judging someone before taking the time to find out who they are. However, knowing that we should not judge the outward appearance of another rarely stops those bent on doing just that, including our own judgment of ourselves.

As a young girl, I was bright, healthy, and active. By the time I was in sixth grade, I was the second tallest student in my school. I did not wear make-up or shave my legs like some of the other girls were starting to do, but I was okay with myself – until one day, as a senior in high school, when the football team quarterback made a comment about the width of my backside, comparing it to a barn door. Rather than understanding that his assessment of my physical attributes was not worth spit on the sidewalk, I took it to heart and began my journey into the abyss of trying to fit into society’s norms.

In less time than it takes a star to twinkle, I started trimming away my cover without giving any thought to my pages within. I vowed to do whatever it took to weigh one-hundred pounds, never mind that I was almost five-feet-nine-inches tall.

I starved myself, living on a half a sandwich, a half an apple, and a half a glass of milk every other day. I filled my empty stomach with water to stave off hunger pangs. I exercised hours a day, and slowly and methodically whittled away all that made me physically unique until I came to within five pounds of my goal – and nearly killed myself in the process.

I was finally beautiful, protruding rib cage, hips, collar bone, and all. It made no difference that my energy level waned and it felt like my stomach was eating itself. It was simply the price I had to pay in order to be acceptable. My sleek cover barely hid the damaged pages inside.

It was not until a doctor told me I would not live to see my twenty-first birthday if I didn’t start eating and gaining some weight that I took a step back to see that the beauty I thought I possessed was a façade. My eyes were sunken with dark circles. My hair had thinned. My cheeks were gaunt. My zest for life had been replaced by the drive for physical perfection.

I was lucky, though. I took the doctor’s advice and started on the long and difficult road of rewriting the pages I had nearly destroyed in my quest to fix my cover.

Today, I see that same quest for physical perfection in so many young people – particularly young girls. They judge their covers by the airbrushed, photo-shopped, unrealistic images they see on magazines, in the movies, on social media, and almost anywhere they look. They are bombarded daily by societal norms that have no basis in reality. They end up believing the way they naturally are is not good enough. And they slowly ravage their pages.

Not judging a book by its cover should extend to the way we see ourselves. If all we see when we look in the mirror are blemishes, imperfections, cellulite, and wrinkles, we miss the glorious story within. Within that cover is strength, kindness, courage, love, support, laughter, tears, and a myriad of other things that make us who we are.