At What Price, Perfection?
ALL TEXT AND PHOTOS © Marlene A. Condon
“Perfection” means free from flaws or defects, and it’s a state of existence many people relentlessly chase these days. According to the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery, $15 billion dollars was spent in America alone for beauty procedures in 2016. And the Japan Times reported that $10.7 billion was spent in 2017 on just the materials and chemicals practitioners used to perform these cosmetic procedures worldwide.
The price of physical
“beauty” is not just in terms of money, but also in terms of real pain and risk
for those who choose surgery, not to mention the price of wasting your life
(time is something I consider more valuable than almost anything) on something
that is ridiculously overvalued.
Presumably the point of
beauty is to be admired and/or to find someone to love you, yet being beautiful
is not in and of itself likely to bring you genuine happiness; it’s likely that
even the most gorgeous woman and handsome man have been cheated on. That says a
lot (or, at least, it should) about the value of great looks alone in terms of
endearment to others.
People nowadays are even
concerned with how their pets look. According to the New York Post, dogs are
getting nose and/or ear jobs, face-lifts, and even testicular implants so male
dogs “can regain their masculinity”! Although some procedures, as with people,
are done for medical purposes, they are far fewer in number than those for
simply aesthetic reasons. In 2011, pet owners—more often known these days as
pet “parents”—forked over $62 million in plastic surgery for their pets.
Folks are free to decide how
much money they want to spend and how much pain they are willing to endure for
their own sense of flawlessness. But is it ethical to subject animals to
aesthetic surgical procedures they get nothing out of except great discomfort?
This infatuation with
“physical excellence” in human society borders upon madness. It not only places
at risk and brings pain to pets going under the knife for invalid reasons, but
it has also come at great cost to the quality of everyone’s everyday lives.
Decades ago, when I was in my
twenties and had fallen in love with the man of my dreams, I received a dozen long-stemmed red roses from him for my birthday.
Oh, the fragrance of those roses! It was divine. Less than a decade later, when
I had to undergo serious surgery that I was terrified of having, a dear friend
also chose to send me a dozen long-stemmed red roses. The cut flowers still
held the marvelous rose essence that was able to carry my thoughts away from
the hospital and the intense pain of my surgery.
But by the end of the 1990s,
the scent was gone. I couldn’t believe that this emblematic feature of roses
had so thoroughly disappeared, and I also couldn’t imagine how it could have
been allowed to happen. It was perhaps my first brush with this new world in
which physical “perfection” plays such a dominant role in so many aspects of
everyday life.
The rose fragrance was
sacrificed on the alter of “beauty”. Gardeners growing their own roses
preferred new pastel colors that were not biologically linked to the heavenly
scent of red roses. Florists who wanted access to roses from around the world
needed hardier specimens that could withstand travel and last longer in the
customer’s hands, and the plants bred to meet these standards lost their scent
in the process.
There has been equal demand
for looks over substance in the food industry, with equally regrettable
results. Apples are especially noticeable victims of this trend, with most of the
commercial varieties looking like the artificial wax fruits that adorned my
mother’s dining-room fruit bowl when I was growing up. Their “perfect” looks
belie their loss of great apple flavor, not to mention nutrition.
The lack of robust flavor and
aroma in strawberries ranks right up there with the rose situation as a truly
lamentable development. Time was when you would bite into a strawberry that was
fully red inside and chock-full of sweet juice. Now these fruits tend to be
mostly white inside—even if bought from a local farmer—and, not surprisingly,
flavorless by comparison.
I used to make strawberry ice
cream following a recipe that suggested you might want to add red food
coloring, but the naturally red and tasty juice made such an addition totally
unnecessary. I can’t even imagine making my own ice cream from the strawberries
on today’s market.
Then there are the Christmas
trees. I’ve always adored these decorative icons of the month of December,
whether they be the fake tree we had during my youth, the Eastern Red-cedars
cut for free from a farmer’s pasture during my college years, or a field-grown
White Pine Christmas tree bought from a parking lot when I was a young adult.
The beauty of these trees
came from their openness. Ornaments hung down in all their colorful glory in
the spaces between branches, and free-hanging shiny tinsel augmented the glow
of the lights, be they big or small. The trees looked as real (albeit
decorated) as when they’d been growing in a forest or field (unless, of course,
they were the pink, white, or blue aluminum trees some folks liked in the
‘60s), and even the fake ones mimicked the airiness of natural trees.
These Christmas trees gave
you a sense of connectedness to the environment, a little bit of the outdoors
brought inside for a special holiday. In contrast, today’s overly sheared trees
evoke the hand of man, not nature.
The trees are pruned to make
them grow in a “perfect pyramid” shape (Christmas tree-grower lingo for "much
wider at the bottom than at the top"). If they aren’t “full enough”, the lateral
branches are sheared to increase density. But the thickness of the branches
doesn’t allow tinsel and ornaments to hang freely as they are supposed to do,
making the trees far less attractive because the ornaments instead lie directly
upon the greenery.
I’m guessing that someone
decided that live Christmas trees should look as they are drawn in cartoons and
on cards and other stationery. Indeed, they now do, which means they look as
artificial as Christmas tree-shaped jewelry.
Perhaps artificiality is to
be expected when such a large percentage of the populace spends a good deal of
time living in a virtual world instead of a real one. But folks should be
careful about “improving” Mother Nature. In many cases, they end up eradicating
the very qualities that made things extraordinary, making the price of
“perfection” way too high.
NATURE ADVICE:
Before bringing
your live Christmas tree into the house, be sure to check it over for mantid
egg cases. Otherwise, immature mantids might hatch out (due to the heat) inside
your home, where they will have nothing to eat and will die.
When you find an egg case, cut off the entire branch. Do your best to
position it within the branches of a shrub, with the egg mass in its original
orientation. Try not to leave the egg mass obviously exposed because birds feed
upon mantid eggs.
You can visit the site below to read descriptions of the mantid egg cases
of three commonly encountered species.
https://nature.mdc.mo.gov/discover-nature/field-guide/mantids-mantises