I ponder about how easy it must be to look “normal.” Maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with people glancing at me more than once. Maybe I’d have a boyfriend.

One day, I was sitting near the end of a bus, which swayed back and forth as it made its stops. The seats were full, and some people stood up, holding the plastic loops to steady their balance.

As the bus headed downtown, I noticed an older woman who kept looking at me. At first, I thought nothing of it.

But the woman, with gray streaks in her tight bun, kept staring at me. She squinted and her eyes quickly wandered up and down my body. She grimaced, as if she were looking at a pool of vomit as she continued to stare.

I tried not to stare back. I shifted in my seat, trying to avoid her steady gaze, and pitied her.

Apparently, she did not find anything about my appearance appealing. I pitied her, because I’m sure that she must scrutinize others who are different. I pitied her, and hoped that she will learn to accept others in her future with grace.

Although I look and sound a little different than most people, I don’t let that get in my way. And because of my disability, my interpretation of “beauty” is different than that of most.

I was born with Nager Syndrome, which is a rare genetic birth defect. This syndrome altered my face, ears and hands. I am hard of hearing and my eyes are slightly droopy (almost shaped like Paul McCartney’s). I’ve had multiple surgeries on my lower and upper jaw. And, as a youngster, my ears were reconstructed.

Growing up, I realized that true beauty could only be found within a person. Both the personality and the lifestyle of a person are much more important than any physical attributes.

Unfortunately, however, we live in a society obsessed with aesthetic flawlessness. Television commercials and magazine ads raise the bar of beauty to an impossibly high standard. I feel as if sometimes I must work extra hard to be taken seriously.

Once in a long while, I ponder about how easy it must be to look “normal.” Maybe I wouldn’t have to deal with people glancing at me more than once. Maybe I’d have a boyfriend, maybe this, maybe that. However, even if I could magically change the way I look, I wouldn’t.

I could spend my life being cynical and constantly worried about my appearance, but life is too short to worry. All too often, people spend thousands of dollars in doctor’s offices with hopes of becoming more attractive. A flatter nose, a larger bustline, fuller lips — in the end, is it worth it? I doubt it.

I’ve learned to accept people as they are. I constantly challenge others and myself about stereotypes concerning ethnicity or gender, for example.

I find beauty in action, words and conversation. We all grow up looking at the world with our individual thoughts, perceptions and feelings. In wisdom, there is beauty.

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