Cinderella is a fairy tale; real glass slippers break...

My advance apologies to everyone who closely follows the entertainment industry. I don't watch television, (I rarely even turn it on,) so most of the "stars" of today are unknown to me. I rarely go to movies, don't usually read People magazine or EW, and don't particularly care about what people are doing in Hollywood.

I'm truly not an intellectual snob; that job is reserved for my son, Mr. Sandwich Himself. If keeping up on celebrity "news" is your hobby, then knock yourself out. I'm a big believer in the adage, "To each his own," and it looks like there are lot of you out there with the same hobby. (Although, to be fair, I will admit I don't exactly consider actresses and actors to be deep thinkers, and rarely take anything they say seriously.)

No, I'm not speaking from a platform of intellectual conservatism. The truth is much simpler. I really just don't care a whole lot what people are doing anywhere, unless it's actually my business. And hardly anything is, I have found. I could say a lot about people keeping their noses out of other people's lives at this point, but that's a different blog post, so I'll keep myself in check. (I am now glowing with self-righteousness for being so self-disciplined.)

Anyway, I stumbled over a delicious quote this week that really spoke to me, and I had to query her name to find out who she was, because I had never heard of her before. Turns out, she's an actress.

I don't know if she is vain or humble, empty headed or a Mensa candidate. I don't know if she is a good actress or a bad actress. (I have heard of her show from my daughter, an aficionado.) I have no idea what kind of character she has, or if she is big into community service or other ways of giving back to the world.

Surprisingly, however, I think she and I may have something in common. That is, if you think that the 89 pounds on my 5'9" frame the day I graduated from college is a problem. (I thought it was, but I'm guessing my reasons and yours are slightly divergent. Completely opposite, even.)

Anyway, Portia hit the nail on the head with a very perspicacious statement this week, upon which I simply could not resist expounding.

The statement in question was, "You can't put a size 8 foot into a size 6 shoe."

Simple? Yes. Obvious? Perhaps. But how many times in life have we tried to do exactly that? It's not just Cinderella's step-sisters that were desperate to be someone they weren't.

We are surrounded on all sides by the pressure to be someone else. It's not surprising that in the fantasy capital of the world, an actress would have a problem with her body image. After all, Hollywood is all about the illusion, regardless of the cost to real people - whether actress or fan - in self-esteem and life satisfaction.

Although Portia was talking about eating disorders, I find this statement to be a great metaphor for most things in life. If you are forcing yourself to fit someone else's image, you are, quite simply, doomed to failure. Underneath it all, no matter how hard you try to be someone else, you are still going to be you.

If you have a size 12 frame, you are never going to be a size 6, no matter how much you starve yourself, no matter how many hours a day you work out, no matter what you do or don't do. You will be a 12, it's just a matter of whether you are an emaciated 12 or a full figured 12.

If you are a global thinker, you will struggle in an accounting job where the details matter.

If you are a free spirit, you are going to struggle in a world that wants to pin you down.

It doesn't mean you can't do it; after all, Cinderella's step-sister cut off her toes to get that shoe on, and you could, too. (On a side note. Don't you sort of wonder what that would have looked like - the crystal glass shoe rapidly filling with deep red blood?) But that seems like a rather painful way to fit into something that is clearly wrong for you.

I think it's only fair to point out that she didn't end up with the prince in the end, either, so it's a cautionary tale.

I wish we lived in a world where differences were celebrated instead of denigrated. I would like to be part of a world where speaking different languages was only a barrier to conversation, not to understanding. I would like to be part of a world that valued teachers as much as stockbrokers, and maids as much as executives, because they were following their dream with passion and doing the job well.

For a long time I didn't have a scale in my house, because I refused to allow my vision of the perfect number that much control over my own self-esteem. Whether it's 89 or 129 or 409, that number doesn't change the person hiding inside, the real me. It doesn't define what makes me a good friend or bad, a good mother, sister, daughter, person. It is a superficial way to evaluate someone, especially one's self, and is a path doomed to failure, no matter how enticing it may be.

The consequences of imposing false expectations on ourselves or others can be life threatening. Karen Carpenter, one of my favorite singers ever, died for the illusion. So did Tyler Clementi, Ana Carolina Reston, and Christy Henrich. Although the dream they were reaching for was slightly different for each of them, the illusive win was rooted in the same desire to meet or exceed artificial expectations, reinforced by an unforgiving culture in which a narrow definition of perfection is not everything, it's the only thing that matters.

Much of life is simply beyond our control, but we do have the ability to set our expectations realistically. We can make our goals achievable, and we can intentionally disregard those who insist on bringing us down to some other vision of how we should be. Society focuses on the superficial exterior; how beautiful the glass slipper looks. Karen, Tyler, Ana, Christy, and hundreds of others like them, are a testament to the reality that it is also fragile and unreliable.

Although I occasionally enjoy wearing my high heels, most days, I'd rather wear tennis shoes, (usually a size too big in case my feet swell.) Glass slippers can break, and I would hate to get splinters in my foot.