David Tennant was definitely the most "swoon-ey" doctor - those twinkly eyes . . . that touch of a Scottish accent . . .
Yes, one reaches a point where things like "ugly" just don't matter that much anymore. ha ha ha (By the way, Essjay, I see you are from Teesside. I spent some time around Durham [Chester Le Street, to be exact] a few years back. Lovely area. I particularly enjoyed the Beamish living history area. Is it still running?)
I complete my 49th trip around the sun later this week. (Hiking, hugs from my girls, and a medium-rare rib eye are in the forecast) I am mostly enjoying getting older. I can still do the things I did when I was 25. I just hurt a lot more the next day.
Hey, all you insecure youngsters, may I go into pedantic-old-man mode here for a minute or two?
[/pedantic old man mode: on]
About half of this thread seems to be variations on the "No, you're not ugly, I'M ugly" theme. I have had a few glimpses of the grand scheme of things, and I can tell you that in the grand scheme of things, your prettiness or ugliness doesn't mean diddly squat. I haven't seen anybody on this thread that I would consider physically ugly, but if I did, I wouldn't care. I understand the struggle; I get caught up in it, too, sometimes. But it just doesn't matter.
The sooner you learn contentment, the happier and healthier you will be. Someone already pointed this out, I think: Young people wish they were older. Older people wish they were younger. People with curly hair wish they had straight hair, and vice versa. People who have three eyes wish they only had two. What an enormous waste of energy. As Colonel Potter said, "If you ain't where you is, you're no place."
Here's the deal: You are a project on God's workbench. Choose to become something useful and beautiful. Your physical attributes, your background, your wealth, your strengths and weaknesses are the raw material you've been given. You have no control over that stuff. But you can choose to let God make you into something beautiful. There is a person on this forum who makes stunningly beautiful artwork out of old shoes. Your raw material does NOT determine the worth of the finished product.
Bullies can make life miserable, but they don't determine your worth either. You can keep your head high, because hard times teach you perseverance and compassion, deepen your character, and give you the capacity to hope. Don't let the ugly people make you ugly. Life is supposed to be hard, and if it isn't bullies it will be something else. Heroes never arise when things are easy, and inspiring stories never happen when everything is going according to plan. What matters is what you do with the hard times. So stand up to bullies when you must, but pity them, too. They are miserably unhappy people who, for whatever reason, have never learned the beauty that can come through bad times.
Boys and girls, I lost my mom about six years ago to complications from a long, long, long fight with severe chronic pain. But even though that pain destroyed her body, it couldn't touch who she was. She never lost her smile, her faith, her hope, her love. She never stopped trying to help people, even as she was suffering pain I can't even understand. Nope, she wasn't much to look at, there toward the end. And she was the bravest, strongest, most beautiful person I've ever known. In the end, THAT is what matters: Who you help, what you become, what you stand for, the legacy you leave.
So quit gazing in the mirror, and see the big picture. You've got one life, guys. Make it count for something.
[\pedantic old man mode]
* I haven't seen anybody on this thread that I would consider physically ugly, but if I did, I wouldn't care. I understand the struggle; I get caught up in it, too, sometimes. But it just doesn't matter.*
*You are a project on God's workbench. Choose to become something useful and beautiful. Your physical attributes, your background, your wealth, your strengths and weaknesses are the raw material you've been given. You have no control over that stuff. But you can choose to let God make you into something beautiful. There is a person on this forum who makes stunningly beautiful artwork out of old shoes. Your raw material does NOT determine the worth of the finished product.*
*Bullies can make life miserable, but they don't determine your worth*
Badger - dear, dear Badger - your whole post (but particularly the bits I've picked out) contains some of the wisest words I've ever seen. And to them I would add, if I may, that the hardships and difficulties we endure can forge us into the strongest of steels.
It is very hard when we are young and self-conscious, and especially living in a world so obsessed with appearance and possessions, to ignore bullies and outside pressures to conform. However it is the live fish that swims against the stream. Learn from your difficulties - don't let them break you.
In times of great hardship, people show their true worth - and often surprise even themselves (look at Oskar Schindler!). It took me a long time to learn that what I looked like wasn't what I was - that the "gift', if you like, was not the"box", but it's a good lesson to learn. Your soul is the pearl in the oyster - and it is one of great price.
They say when life hands us lemons - make lemonade. Sometimes life hands us demons - well, make "demonade". Turn those experiences into a useful part of your growth as a human being.
*So stand up to bullies when you must, but pity them, too. They are miserably unhappy people who, for whatever reason, have never learned the beauty that can come through bad times.*
This, too - and the saddest thing is that often these bullies are totally unaware that they are afraid and unhappy. They look for validation externally and they will never find it, because knowledge of your own worth comes from inside. It is what you ARE - not what you HAVE.
BTW Badger - the Beamish Museum is still there but the last brewery horse, Justin, died four years ago. You possibly saw him on your visit. I mention it because I was born in Sunderland, where the Vaux brewery was, and loved to watch these magnificent heavy horses as they pulled the carts around the town, delivering the ale. My great-grandfather worked as a blacksmith in the brewery and actually died from being kicked in the head by a horse, leaving my great grandmother with six children at the aged of 32 (they'd had nine, but three had died in infancy). No social services then either. Lives were often very hard.
*People who have three eyes wish they only had two.* And I envy Colin his three eyes . . .
. . . though it must cost him a fortune in Specsavers . . .
