Envy

At least twice a year I come face to face with my nemesis—the scale.  Twice a year I attend health screenings sponsored by my employer.  There I am poked, prodded, measured, and weighed.  I’m not sure if this is a proactive act towards good health or a wicked reminder that none of us can escape entropy.  Entropy basically is a fact that all things break down over time.  At this point more time has passed than remains.  Trust me . . . entropy is present in my life and my nemesis is more than elated to point this out.

I’d wouldn’t say that I have a love/hate relationship with the scale, it is fairly one sided in our relationship—I hate the scale.  The scale is blunt in its assessment and revelation of the facts.  There is more of me than I care to acknowledge.  The scale points that out.  My entropy has headed south and over the belt.  Though I have never had six-pack abs, what I do have would better resemble the Pillsbury Dough-boy.  The scale never lies . . . JERK!

 

This bi-annual encounter with the scale has created a bit of envy in my psyche.  Though I try hard to not be superficial when it comes to appearances, I cannot help but notice that my physique is far from what our advertorial society deems as “ideal”.  Where the non-achievable Adonis is shoved down our throats, I’m stuck on the opposite end pointing towards . . . well, I said it earlier—the Pillsbury Dough-boy.  I envy those on the Adonis side.  I loathe them.

 

This wasn’t always the case.  Most of my life I really didn’t care what I looked like or how I stacked up to others.  I had come to accept myself for who I was . . . a balding, slightly overweight, growing old person.  Then one of the grandchildren asked if I was going to have a baby!  Bless her heart.  She was too young to understand the science of it all and that females were the only ones capable of birthing a child.  Yes, after a while, I put her back in the will.  Suddenly I became aware of my dough-boy physique and all those who were not . . . dough-boys that is.  True, most were 30 to 40 years younger than me, but I envied their appearance.  I longed to look like that.

 

Envy appeared thanks to a curious infant who wanted to know . . . are you having a baby?  That and the fact that our nation will soon be led by the poster child of envy—president-elect Donald Trump.  He is the epitome of envy.  Just listen to the man speak about how he envies so much of the world around him . . . constantly hailing himself as “better” than everyone and everything else.  Throughout his political career (in fact, his whole life) he has been envious of his opponents . . . especially their crowds.  He is quick to point out that his crowds have been bigger and better than anyone else’s in history.  His life is bigger and better than anyone else’s.  He is driven by envy.   His gold game.  His mansions.  His spouse.  His kids.  His wealth.  The bragging comes out whenever his envy appears.

 

My favor bout of Trump envy came about when he was campaigning in Pennsylvania prior to the election.  The location was Latrobe—birthplace of Arnold Palmer.  There he spoke about Palmer and referred to the physical features of the famous golfer.  See and hear it here.  Peg Palmer Wears, Palmer’s daughter, responded to the vulgar statement confirming the “orange one’s” envy, “I think Trump seems to be fairly obsessed with these things, just like crowd size.”  The president-elect—the most powerful person in the whole world—has made envy acceptable.  If it is good enough for the president-elect, then it is good enough for me.

 

As much as I want to embrace envy . . . I can’t.  Brad Pitt is hanging out somewhere in that Pillsbury Dough-boy physique . . . just waiting to be released . . . to be set free.  No one exiled me to the “land of popping fresh dough”.  As much as I wish I could, I have no one else to blame for my present demise and shape.  It is my fault.  My inactivity.  My gluttonous behavior.  Though it seems to have silently snuck up on me over the years . . . I have no one to blame except myself.  Envy seems the best way to deal with it . . . the easy way out.

 

Loathing is not the answer to the source of my envy.  No . . . we all know the answer to ridding myself of this envy.  Diet and exercise.  Neither are any sane person’s ideas of a solution.  But the reality is there.  Towards that goal I have started walking more.  The dog loves that.  But that is not enough.  I bought a stationary bike.  What a vile piece of torturous equipment!  I can see why for most people it becomes a clothes rack.  Yet it is necessary if Brad Pitt is ever going to return.  It is the only way . . .

 

. . . only way I can reclaim that slimmer and trimmer version of myself.  Yet there are moments.  Moments when the lungs are burning and pushing for any air, they can find . . . when the legs are aching . . . that my mind thinks, “Envy ain’t so bad.  Plus, it is easier on the body.”  Then I think of how ridiculous envy makes one look and sound . . . think of Latrobe, Pennsylvania and Arnold Palmer . . . the “orange one’s” remarks.  The stationary bike doesn’t seem so bad after all.  I don’t want to be like “the Donald”.   

 

Facebook Envy

One of the Facebook friends is on the coast of Maine on a family vacation.  Another flies around the United States and beyond doing educational workshops in really cool historical places . . . and, gets paid to do it.  This other friend is in Yellowstone National Park and has taken pictures of just about every living critter in the park . . . grizzly bears, moose, black bears, wolverines, badgers, mountain goats, Rocky Mountain Big Horn Sheep, wolves, and even the always around bison and elk.  Another friend just built a new addition onto their new house because they needed a little more room . . . for a cool hundred thousand.  One quit his job and jetted down to South America for the World Cup.  Another shared that her child was a genius and has already been accepted into Harvard . . . he goes into the first grade next year.  One friend has the next Michael Jordan as the kid is averaging close to sixty points in the family league held in their driveway.  Pretty amazing stuff!

As I skim through my newsfeed on Facebook I am always in awe of the accomplishments and adventures all of my Facebook  buddies have experienced.  I am in astonishment of the excitement that fills their lives each and every waking moment.  I am amazed at the life experiences and growth their lives afford them on a daily basis.  Plus, I am flabbergasted at the many of thousands of varieties of foods and drinks they consume while on these daily adventures.  And, I sigh . . . I sigh at what a wonderful life they all seem to be having in comparison to my own life.  Someone told me that I might be suffering from Facebook envy.

Facebook envy!

I had never heard of such a thing . . . but, it does exist.  I looked it up on the ever reliable Internet and found hundreds of thousands of links dealing with this phenomena . . . Facebook envy.  According to most the sources on the Internet, Facebook envy is when you look at the profiles of your friends and fear that they are living better lives than you are . . . that the grass really is greener on the other side of the fence.  Apparently this is pretty serious stuff as millions of dollars are being dumped—or should I say, invested—into researching this topic.  Rampant Facebook envy can cause people not to like themselves or their lives . . . can make them jealous . . . and, can even cause depression.  It can create emotional pain and resentment.  Heaven forbid that it can make a person feel bad because they feel left out of the good life that everyone else seemingly has.

Omigod!  I didn’t realize it was such a terrible malady that could strike anyone using the social media of Facebook.  I didn’t realize that I was scratching on the surface . . . entering into the realm of such a drastic and debilitating curse . . . all because I looked in wonder and sighed at the portrayals of the good life everyone else is living.  This envy . . . this Facebook envy had to be stopped in its tracks before it completely manifested itself in my life.

One site I visited while looking for ways to avoid the green-eyed monster of Facebook suggested that the first step is that one has to admit that there is a problem.  Just admit it, said the site . . . admit that you are jealous.  It is like having a problem with alcohol or drugs or food . . . it is an addiction that is consuming one’s life.  To deny it is to make it worse.  Reading this I went straight to the telephone directory (yeah, we still have a land line) looking for the closest 12-step program dealing with Facebook envy.  Found Alcoholics Anonymous, Over-eaters Anonymmous, programs for drugs, sex, complusions . . . but nothing for Facebook envy.  Then, I thought, this just might be a way to make a quick buck . . . get the money while it is hot; but, my conscience wouldn’t let me take advantage of people when they are down on their luck . . . Facebook envy is a terrible thing to take advantage of.

Another site suggested that one should use a form of reverse psychology . . . that the problem is that those who are experiencing Facebook envy are not being appreciative enough of their friends and the extraordinary lives that they are living.  Compliments those friends having the great luck and lives . . . give them a thumbs up . . . congratulate them . . . after all, you never really thought most of them would amount to anything.  Besides, wallowing in the mud only makes one dirtier.  I couldn’t do that either . . . felt like lying.

One site suggested that those experiencing Facebook envy in their lives should just give themselves a break.  Suggested that it is like comparing apples to oranges, and allowing other people to set the bar for their lives.  Apparently the focus is on the wrong person.  Instead of focusing on others, focus on yourself . . . focus on your life.  Remember that you are a unique individual with your own goals and dreams . . . chase after your own happiness.  I thought about it . . . I don’t want my life . . . I want my friends’ lives.  On Facebook they sure look like they are having a heck of a lot more fun than I am!

Another site suggested taking a break from Facebook . . . of actually stepping away from the computer and all social media . . . to take a Facebook hiatus and to go out to really live life . . . to be so busy actually living life that there isn’t enough time to check on other people’s statuses or to update your own.  Tell an alcoholic to just quit drinking . . . or a drug addict to stop taking drugs . . . it is not that simple.  My hands started twitching as soon as I read that one.  Besides, if I went out and lived the perfect life I would still need Facebook so I could rub all of my friends’ noses in it.

The last site I checked out, and the one that actually got me excited, said that people should take what they are reading on Facebook with a grain of salt . . . maybe even suck down the whole salt shaker.  You see you are not really “friending” someone when you befriend them on Facebook . . . you are not seeing the real person, you are seeing their publicist.  Some folks have better publicists than others.  Rarely do you see the bad stuff that is happening in people’s lives, you are only seeing the good things that are going on.  The truth gets stretched or a few facts are left out.  They sugar-coat things.  It is a mask that people hide behind.  Facebook is never the whole story . . . it is only the parts that we want to show . . . and, that is not reality . . . at least not one worth being jealous over.  The truth is somewhere between here and there . . . and, there can be a great distance between the two.

That pretty much knocked out the fever I was beginning to experience glancing over the newsfeed on Facebook.  Cured me of that envy once and for all.  Put me back on track for what I use Facebook for in the first place . . . a platform.  A platform to share photographs I take.  A platform to share my blog and sermons.  A platform to share news about the church I serve.  That is the purpose of Facebook for me.  Facebook is a tool for me.  Oh sure, I take the time to check out what is supposedly happening in the lives of those who are friended . . . I think they call it “trolling” . . . and, I am always in amazement of what is happening in the lives of those I know.  Good for them!  May they have many, many more years of wonderful life, great adventures, and amazing stories to share . . . I have the salt shaker right next to the computer!  Besides, I am pretty sure that they don’t want to hear about me winning the lottery, being chosen for the Nobel Peace Prize, or nominated for a Pulitzer Prize in blogging.

I can already hear them choking on the salt!

Enjoy the little video . . . it explains a lot: