‘Shallow’ is not a case of feeling good about looking good

Q: How does a man look past his wife’s weight gain and be able to regain intimacy with her? — L.L., Las Vegas

A: In 1980, I saw the film "The Elephant Man." It’s the story of John Merrick, born in England in 1862. Merrick suffered from Proteus syndrome, an extremely rare disease that causes abnormal, unchecked growth of bones and skin. The makeup for actor John Hurt was painstakingly crafted using photographs and Merrick’s intact skeleton on display at the English Hospital museum where Merrick lived his last days.

The film makes you wait a good while before you see Merrick. And when I did finally see him, I had to confront a powerful physical reaction. My gorge rose. I was nauseated. Had a parasympathetic reaction. My breathing changed.

Merrick was hideous beyond words. (Ask yourself right now if this makes me "shallow.")

About an hour later, I was watching a scene wherein Merrick is reciting Shakespeare with a local English stage actress. The Inner Voice tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Psst, don’t mean to interrupt, but have you noticed that you are no longer noticing that John Merrick is hideous?"

Oh my. It was true. I’d met John. Somehow, when I wasn’t looking, I’d gotten connected to the character of John Merrick. Make no mistake, Merrick looked the same, and the way he looked was terrible indeed. But somehow, Merrick’s "looks" no longer carried the same meaning. His terrifying deformities no longer terrified.

My experience of this film taught me I was responsible not only for what I looked at, but what I thought and believed about what I looked at. What happened in the film was preconscious; but I knew, then, that I must have the power to make it conscious.

The definition of shallow is not, then, someone who enjoys being fit, healthy and attractive, or someone who enjoys looking at fitness, health and beauty.

A shallow person is someone who refuses to take responsibility for what he or she thinks and believes about what he or she sees.

A shallow person spends his or her life thinking that it’s the mate’s responsibility to "turn me on," all the while refusing to realize it’s largely me who decides when and with whom to have desire based on what I think and believe.

And that, L.L., is my answer to your question. If we can get connected — or reconnected — to our spouse, this often changes what physical appearance means.

If, as men, we can throw off the absurdity of a psychosexual acculturation leaving us chasing images of women both unrealistic and even fictional; if we have no grounds to think our wives’ weight gain qualifies as a serious health problem; if there is no evidence that our wives’ weight gain reflects the negative meaning of willful loss of vitality, giving up on the marriage, fear of sex, depression, or similarly unacceptable conditions of heart, soul and mind (which, in my opinion, should never be "looked past") …

… if, on the other hand, what we are looking at is the more or less normal shifts of metabolism and aging, the changes wrought by pregnancy, the extra pounds that appear during a time of bereavement or perhaps a time of extreme pressure and focus (graduate school, caregiving for an ailing relative, intense career pressure, etc.) …

… or, if what we are looking at is the consequences of illness — thyroid disorder, steroid intervention, amputation, surgical scars, injuries precluding the possibility of regular exercise …

… then, L.L., we don’t confront our spouse. We confront ourselves. Which, of course, you have already begun to do just by posing your question.

We’ll wrap this up next Tuesday.

Steven Kalas is a behavioral health consultant and counselor at Clear View Counseling and Wellness Center in Las Vegas. His columns appear on Tuesdays and Sundays. Questions for the Asking Human Matters column or comments can be e-mailed to skalas@reviewjournal.com.