The suggestion over on the Daily Post today reads:
Would you rather be super intelligent or extremely good looking?
Originally when I read this, I didn’t think this was the kind of blog post I could tackle. I’m pretty sensitive about my appearance, especially lately since I’ve been working out so much and eating really healthy.
However, I believe we should divide this up into two situations: one where you choose super intelligent, and the other where you choose extremely good looking.
Let’s look at how your life will be different with each.
Extremely good looking
You wake up the morning after your choice, look in the mirror, and find that you are as close to the perfect human specimen as you could ever hope.
As you turn to look at your significant other, he rolls out of bed, his stomach hanging over the waistline of his hole-riddled boxer shorts. He stretches, belches, walks over to you and smacks you on the butt. “Good morning, good looking.”
You immediately think to yourself, I can do better.
So you dump him right there, and as tears roll down his Rosacea cheeks (adult acne; what the hell is up with that?!) you steel yourself for the day. You put on clothes that would normally look dowdy on you, but with your current physique they look amazing.
Now you’re making your way out of your house. People on the street stop and stare. Your neighbor drops his coffee mug on the sidewalk and stares at you with his mouth agape. You’ve never looked this good, and everyone sees the difference.
Your nosy neighbor, Suzanne, hobbles over with her walker. Her hair looks especially disheveled this morning; it’s stringy gray mess looks like it’s only contact has been with an egg beater. She starts to ask you about your new appearance, and you walk past her with a flip of your flowing hair.
It just so happens that you’re so entranced with your new-found attention that as you walk to your car, you don’t notice the pickup truck speeding through your parking lot. You walk right in front of the truck and hear HONK!! HONK!!! right before the entire world goes black.
When you wake up you’re in traction. You can’t move any of your limbs. Every breath brings you pain. As your eyes begin to focus and you take in your surroundings, you notice the abject dreariness of your hospital room.
A doctor walks in and explains the physical therapy program you’ll endure. It’s going to be lots of hard work, he says. He talks to you about bone grafts, skin grafts, and cosmetic reconstruction.
Wait, what?! Your mind is racing. Did he say “cosmetic reconstruction”? You try to ask him for a mirror, but your voice is too raspy. It’s only two days later, when you begin to move out of bed, that you catch a glimpse of your new face in the mirror.
Welcome to the world, Lon Chaney.
You’re hideous. Hooray. Nice choice.
You wake up the morning after your choice and find that everything suddenly makes sense. Before getting out of bed, you roll over and kiss your significant other on the cheek. Could there be someone more perfect for you?
You walk over to the computer and begin to work. Within a half hour, you’ve made $15 million on the stock market. News agencies are already beginning to call you. You shrug off the cell phone, take a shower, and decide to head to the gym.
When you get there, you work out for a good solid hour before the press shows up. Someone must have tipped them off as to your whereabouts. You jump off the treadmill, take a few minutes to towel off, and try to run to your car.
As you move through the crowd of persistent reporters and begin to dart across the parking lot, you neglect to notice the minivan speeding towards you. You walk right in front of the minivan and hear HONK!! HONK!!! right before the entire world goes black.
When you wake up, you’re in traction. … blah blah blah, you know the rest. Except when you finally get to look in the mirror, do you know what you see looking back at you?
Your millions of dollars bought you the best plastic surgeon money could buy, and instead of getting some pro bono nut job who uses old horror movie posters as inspiration, you get some guy who is Michaelangelo with a scalpel and he makes you look like fricking Anna Torv. And that’s with swelling.
So now you’re not only super intelligent, but you’re also extremely good looking. I think you made the right choice.