Are the beautiful people aware of the feelings and impressions that they leave in their wake as they trudge through the mundane activities of their lives? Do they even trudge, or does their beauty make sufficient impression on their reality that the trudging is largely obviated, either because more of their coworkers, bosses, friends, and even the strangers with whom they interact make additional effort on behalf of the beautiful, or else because the quiet knowledge of their beauty gives them additional reserves of hopefulness, positivity, and confidence? Are they even aware of their beauty? Certainly. But are they aware that there are also souls behind the non-beautiful faces? Do they even realize that the random (or at least remote) processes that conspired to convey the undeserved gift of physical beauty upon them have also resulted in a larger number of malformed, twisted, plain, and poorly proportioned creatures, all of whom have a burning desire to be beautiful? Can the beautiful even understand this vain, frustrated, clawing, begging, impossible desire; or is their experience, limited as it is to being beautiful, insufficient to permit them understanding how a person can rage against the very cosmos because of the vision greeting them in the mirror every morning.
The beautiful woman gazes approvingly upon her reflection, worrying perhaps over a new wrinkle, a stray hair, or the faint coffee stains on her teeth. Perhaps she wonders how much longer her breasts will remain perky and firm, or whether she is getting the exact correct amount of sunlight in order to give the desired skin tone without damaging the beautiful tissue.
The non-beautiful person is consistently and unpleasantly surprised by their reflection, as their residual self image is always improving on itself. Bringing the eyes closer together, straightening the teeth, erasing the skin blemishes, trimming the excess fat. When reality and self image become sufficiently diverged, a queer sense of lack of ownership settles in. "I suppose this is how I look to everyone else. If only they could see how I truly look. Alas, I am sentenced to spend my life entombed within the ugly form of another, my true beauty never to be known or admired."
