Book Club

I joined a book club at the beginning of the year. It seemed like a good way to keep up on reading, meet new people, and try to make Indianapolis feel a little more like a home. The last Wednesday of every month we meet to discuss our read. January was “Brave New World” by Aldous Huxley, February was “Twelfth Night” by William Shakespeare, and March was “The Picture of Dorian Gray” by Oscar Wilde. While I’ve never regretted reading a book I rarely allow a book to enter my favorite category.

Well, I was delightfully surprised that “The Picture of Dorian Gray” has officially made that leap into the favorites. If I had stopped reading after the first half of the book I probably would have never thought about the story ever again. Oscar Wilde is a clever writer (I’ve never read the “Importance of Being Earnest” but I have yet to meet anyone, including myself, who doesn’t love the movie) and so the book reads pretty easily, but the plot itself took a little while to take off for me. Maybe I’m just impatient (and this is a mere possibility. I may or may not have been told to be more patient in my life) but since the title of the book is “The Picture of Dorian Gray” I was ready for some action to start taking place with that portrait.

But, boy oh boy, once I understood the relationship between Dorian and that portrait I fell in love with the originality of Wilde. The premise is that Dorian Gray, a devastatingly attractive man to all he meets, sits for and receives a painting of himself from a friend. After Dorian observes the beauty in this picture he becomes jealous that the portrait will stay forever young (are you hearing Alphaville’s technopop in the background now?) while life would take a toll on his body. An impulsive plea/prayer was uttered, begging that his picture would reflect his experiences while his physicality kept its youth.

What an idea! Can you even imagine living your life and having the choices you make and experiences you go through no longer affect you in any visible way? Here’s what I have taken away, for what it’s worth, from this idea. (Side note: who knows if this is what Wilde even wanted his readers to learn. This is just how it affected me, so I hope none of you are disappointed if you read this book and don’t even remotely get the same message.)

Now, I’m not going to lie, at times I’m more of a stereotypical woman than I’d like to admit. I’ve shed tears throughout my life concerning my appearance, and I wish I could say that now I’m 26 I am established enough to feel completely secure in how I look. And to put it simply, some days the confidence is there and other days it just isn’t. I’m fairly sure I’m not the only person like this. At times I don’t mind (and other times I do mind) that I am finding gray hairs, that I have enough stretch marks on my body that they could be used to map the different highways of the United States (which is kind of cool at the same time), that even though I weigh as much as I did before I got pregnant with Avery that I still can’t fit into half the clothes I used to wear (not quite as cool), and that life has started leaving marks on me. There are some blessed little ladies out there who don’t, at least appear to me, to have any toll of pregnancy/life on their body. I cannot count myself a part of that group and can get a bit depressed when I realize I’m only 26 and I’m talking as if my prime has already passed me by.

But, on my good days (and they are there), I can shift that perspective and say, “I’ve been alive for 26 years, what do I have to show for it?” Is it really so bad that I have some marks to remind me of my choice to become a mother? Is it really so bad that I don’t have the same appearance I had when I was 16, since I have 10 more years of experience since then? Now I’m all for exercising (I ran 6 miles this last Saturday), eating smart, getting enough sleep, and taking care of yourself. It shows respect for ourselves and just allows you to enjoy your life more. Where things start getting twisted is when we start wanting to be immune to life making changes on us. We don’t want the scar from the surgery we went through (even if it saved your life), we don’t want our hair to go gray even though everybody’s will, we don’t want smile wrinkles around our eyes even though it shows a life well enjoyed. And those are just some of the physical changes. 

What about all the emotional transformations we go through? New relationships, getting married, having children, losing a loved one, being betrayed by a friend, moving to new city, having to make tough decisions, or being in situations we never wanted to be in. And don’t forget about our mental development. This could happen through schooling, thought provoking conversations, viewing an innovative movie, reading a fascinating book, or maybe starting a new job. And of course there’s a place for spiritual growth. Lessons learned through trials, prayers being answered, faith developing after prayers not being answered for years, and receiving peace that you will have the strength to deal with whatever is in your future. Although these changes aren’t quite as apparent to others as our physical appearance, they still manifest on us. These transitions can be observed by the choices we make, how we treat others (the ones we know well and the complete strangers), where we spend our time, and what we choose to focus on. 

So, at the end of the day, lots of good and lots of bad things happen over 10 years. Would we rather have the good and the bad reflected on us to show that we have lived our lives, or would we rather retain the youthful innocence we had (kind of Garden of Eden-esque)? Maybe we can start viewing our appearance as a bit of a journal of our life. 

And ladies and gentleman, when I think of it that way, I do have the confidence that I want. Thank you Oscar Wilde for writing this book to help me gain some needed perspective.