During the week I did that most lethal thing. I asked a question, about myself, on social media. To what end would I inflict such suffering upon myself?! The question was ‘what celebrity do I most resemble?’ My own dear wife put forward the comparison with Mr Bean, one former colleague suggested a very angry Basil Fawlty, and another colleague felt Beaker from The Muppets was my natural twin.
No, I am not inflicting you with pictures of myself and my celebs, so you will just have to imagine whom I most resemble (it’s Beaker).
Sadly, I am not as skilled at science as our flame-haired friend here. My powers extend to only mild explosions and the occasional power outage.
This all got me thinking – who else do I resemble?
Screech? I was frequently told by my classmates at school that I looked like him. Good thing, or bad thing?
I have more hair. In fact, too much hair. I hate my hair. It’s not even Beaker hair, it’s unkempt thornbush hair.
The overall point to this post, if there is one, is that we often seek to compare ourselves – or we get compared – to other people. Why? When did we forget to love who we are? I will never been Zak Efron, not even close, so why should I care? It’s taken me a long time, but these days I feel comfortable in my own skin. I no longer regard myself as an ugly ducking, even if I’m no swan. I am me, and I am happy.
That’s the key message folks. It might take time to grow into the person you want to be, but grow you shall. No one starts out as a mighty oak – we all start out as some crazy nut. In my case, I’ve grown into a nut tree, but that’s not the point. Eventually, you will learn to be you, in all your glorious uniqueness (is that a word?), and you should celebrate that! That’s why I will be the Beaker of light in the darkness. I’ve Bean Fawlty for too long.
Nice motivational poster, but I’m afraid it’s wide of the mark. As an internationally recognized Ugly Person, I can attest to just how damaging self acceptance of one’s aesthetic shortcomings can lead to heartbreak and personal disaster. (Please don’t ask for specifics. Those scars run deep. *sob*).
But I do agree: ” sometimes you can’t be a good old Sunday roast”. I resigned myself to that long ago, and it’s ok now.
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Ah well, could be worse …
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Beaker people are the best
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