CANTANKEROUSLY YOURS

by Wendell Abern

People Magazine Does it Again

Dear Nearsighted Editors,

          Okay, enough already.  It is no longer funny.  This marks the eighteenth consecutive year you have not selected me as one of the 100 most beautiful people in the world. 

I am incensed.  Once again.  Furious.  Once again.  I hunger for  justice.  No, let me be honest.  I want revenge!  Someone has to pay for this annual injustice.  I choose my wife.  This morning, I ate the one banana she had saved for her cereal.

          The most infuriating thing about this yearly egregious oversight is that you never even contact me, phone me or alert me to a possible upcoming photo op. 

          As far as I’m concerned, you have two glaring problems which should be addressed in every future issue:  the need for additional categories, and a very obvious myopia.  I will start here by addressing the former, which dovetails with the latter.

          Additional Category #1:  Beauty of Character.

          Personally, I believe this to be the most important indication of real beauty – for without character, how can anyone be considered beautiful?        

Now please take a look at my portrait accompanying this column.  Note that I have asked my editors to double the size of my photo in order to accommodate your myopia – thus the aforementioned dovetailing.    

You see, in an effort to be fair, I have decided you are not narrow-minded, but near-sighted.  And your myopia seems to get worse each year. 

I suggest that you just stare at my photo for a few seconds.     

          Note the asymmetry of the eyes, the four-times-broken nose that looks like I went three rounds with Mike Tyson, and the one arched eyebrow completely out of synch with the rest of the face.  A hemi-facial tic contributes to all of these features.  Hidden from camera:  frown lines, wrinkles and blemishes that complement the visible traits and complete the full beauty-of-character portrait.  

          Study my picture closely, Ms. Myopia, and you’ll see I am a walking object lesson in why this category should be added.

          2 – Additional Category #2:  Real Smiles.

          This is really just a revision (and improvement) on your section dealing with “Stunning smiles.”  And just look at your choices!  Jennifer Lopez, Halle Berry, Eva Longoria, Brad Pitt, et al.  Perfect teeth, perfect lips, perfect everything.  Where’s the character in that?  Where’s the realness?

          Once again, I draw your attention to my photo and the crooked smile that suggests uncontrollable drooling.  We’re talking genuine beauty of

character here, Ms. Myopia, and it’s time that a real smile like mine gets acknowledged.

          Additional Category #3 – Hidden Beauty.

          Strip down, everyone.  No clothes.  Let’s all get buck naked.

          If we’re going to talk honestly about beauty, we must include beauty unseen by the general public, even in skimpy bikinis.  And without even shedding a shirt, I can tell you that not one of your “Hundred Most …” is even in my league.

          Let’s start with necks.  Let’s see if any of your beauties can match my barely-visible seven-inch long scar, created by a skilled surgeon who removed my parathyroid glands.

          Now let’s talk about tummies.  Here, you’ll find a six-inch scar from an incision where a second surgeon took out a foot of my intestine – and two little holes where the same doctor aborted an attempt at laproscopic surgery.

          Shoulders?  You’ll need a magnifying glass to see the scars from my two rotator cuff surgeries;  they have been deftly hidden by two different surgeons wielding very clever scalpels.

          Okay, moving up in class, to the three W’s:  warts, wens and welts.

I’ve got ‘em in sizes, shapes and colors no one’s even invented names for yet.  Or would you rather compare quantities?  I’ll match mine against anyone you can name, and spot you an even dozen going in.  

          Additional Category #4:  Geriatric Beauty.

          Yeah, yeah, I know – you’ve got a double-page layout headlined, “Beauty at Every Age.”

          But it features women only, and it stops at age 59!

          Hello, we’re an aging society!  Younger than 59 probably leaves out half the country.  What about those of us past 60, with Y chromosomes?  

          Once again, I draw your attention to my photo (now that my editors have doubled it in size, you can safely assume that Brad Pitt is eating his heart out). 

You’re looking at beauty accumulated over 76 years here, featuring attributes that can only be acquired when one is older than a paltry 59.  And in my case, unique features that have my geriatric peers gnashing their teeth in envy:

          A total lack of muscle tone, indicating I have not wasted any time in gyms, taking yoga classes, or engaging in useless exercise.  In fact, in my condo association, I am the only male with 24-pack abs.

          An enviable belly, hanging just far enough over my belt to demonstrate my adherence to a lifelong healthy diet of cheeseburgers, twice-baked potatoes and apple cobblers.

          And finally, wrinkles.  They’re not too evident in my photo.  But my back, legs, hips and love handles sport so many wrinkles that last week my neighbor’s Shar Pei tried to mate with me.

          Additional Category #5 – Ignored-Until-Now Features.

A — Feet.  Had you ever made this a category, you might have put me on your front cover.  My feet are the perfect culmination of my legs, which are shapely miracles.  No one has feet like mine.  The left ankle protrudes at a weird angle (sprained twice), three toes are shaped like large cashew nuts, and the callouses on my soles are so thick it looks like I’m wearing running shoes.  

          B – Epiglottis.  Some day, my superb epiglottis will make medical history.  When I sleep, I snore Beethoven.

          C – Ears.  I know why you have avoided this category:  too many of your selections have ears that stick out like coffee cups.  Mine remain elegant even after a plastic surgeon removed a chunk from my right ear and planted it on my nose (the skin graft was necessary to cover up removal of a

basal cell cancer).  You’d never know, looking at either the ear or nose.  The only problem is that whenever my nose hurts, I think it’s an earache.

                                                *        *        * 

          You have been sufficiently warned, Ms. Myopia.  I will accept no excuses this coming year.  If I have not been contacted for a photo op by the end of this year, I intend to come north and eat the one banana you have saved for your cereal.

          Cantankerously Yours,

          Wendell Abern

Wendell Abern can be reached at [email protected].