Pride, vanity, and Virgin River

Back in the 2000s, I remember telling a very sweet acquaintance named Sherry that she looked like a famous actress.

I said to her, “Hey, has anyone ever told you that you look just like Julia Stiles?”

She rolled her eyes, and her mouth twisted. “Yes,” she grunted. “If I only had a dime.”  As I walked away from that exchange, I realized my friend didn’t take this comparison as a compliment, but I rejected her irritation. She was a dead ringer for Julia Stiles, I reasoned. To my mind, it was a huge compliment because Julia Stiles was really beautiful. Why would anyone be annoyed with that?

In my defence, I would like to point out that my friend Sherry and Julia Stiles are about the same age…please keep that in mind as you read the following—which you will likely construe as whiny and hypocritical. (No argument here.)

Let’s just say I can’t wait until the hit Netflix show, Virgin River, goes off the air. This series is based on the soapy romance series of the same name, written by American author Robyn Carr.

Several people in the last couple of years, most of them strangers have told me that I look like an actress on that show.

It’s irritating.

The first time it happened, I was hosting a writers’ retreat in Rothesay a couple of years ago. Two participants were whispering about my looks, although I didn’t realize it at the time. One evening I was standing alone in the dining room, making my coffee, and one of them approached me gingerly. “Have you ever watched the show Virgin River?”

As soon as she said it, I knew what was coming.

“[So and So] and I were talking, and we think you look just like an actress on there…I can’t remember her name…but the resemblance is really incredible. You know, she has long grey hair…?”

I scowled. “You mean Annette O’Toole.”

The woman stopped and considered for a moment. “[So and so] didn’t think I should tell you, but I don’t understand why. I mean, it’s a huge compliment, isn’t it? Why should we be shy about saying things like that?”

I screamed on the inside. Maybe because Annette O’Toole is 72?!

God bless her – she’s had a long, successful acting career. She was a redheaded beauty in her youth, but frankly, I didn’t see the resemblance, no matter how similar our hair.

When that weekend was over, I went home and railed about it to my family, who soothed me with murmurs of “no, that’s not true, Mom. You don’t look anything like her.”

But in the ensuing years, a couple of friends, and more than one grocery store clerk, like the checkout girl at Costco this very evening, have repeated that dreaded phrase, “have you ever seen Virgin River?” over and over. Other strangers stare at me in public but don’t say anything, and I’m convinced they must be Virgin River fans, too.

Why does this comparison upset me? Why can’t I just shrug and laugh it off?

Because I don’t want to look old. I don’t want to be old.

I’m only in my fifties, and I don’t want to be compared to someone who is 20 years older. The ironic thing is that I watched the first season when it came out a few years ago, and thought to myself (okay, I know this is mean) how wrinkly her skin looked. “Omigosh,” I thought, “she looks so old.”

What poetic justice, to be compared to the very person who offended my pride and vanity.

The problem is never people’s intentions, but the fact that they really do see something you wish they didn’t. We all have personal tastes when it comes to beauty, and we know all the faces we would love to be compared to—and the ones we don’t. This might not be an issue for everyone, but I do think many women obsess about their looks, even if they never say anything. We compare ourselves to others, and this compulsion doesn’t fade with age. Otherwise, the global beauty industry wouldn’t be valued at $646.2 billion, with the global anti-aging market expected to reach USD $111.9 billion by 2029.

It means a lot to us, to be thought of as young. If we can’t be young, we at least want to look young and feel young. Maybe youthful looks disguise our inevitable trek to the grave.

But until there’s a lighted path leading to the fountain of youth, our attempts will not be successful, ultimately. (Hmm…there might be a book, there…)

Better to make peace with our lives and be grateful for all the blessings we’ve enjoyed: health as long as it lasts, dear friends as long as we have them, and a great family life, which creates photo albums-full of wonderful memories.

…But I promise not to tell you who you look like. Just in case you’d hate it.

With mirth and laughter, let old wrinkles come—William Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice.

Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the LORD shall be praised—Proverbs 31:30