Hot or Not?

I broke my toe today. God damn ottoman. It's only a toe, but I like it, and it was a particularly nasty break. The story is long and involves a four-hour clinic visit and six shots. But it got me thinking about a theory that I have about beautiful people. The doc that helped me was gorgeous. Stunning. Angelic. Breathtaking in a top-five-all-time-hotties way. And God help me he was funny, too. And at some point during the entire torturous event (have you ever had a broken bone reset? Twice? I hadn't), I admitted to myself that he could have anesthetized the wrong toe on the wrong foot, or even a small finger and I would have laughed it off. I think it would have fallen into the "charming" category. I had an inkling about this prejudice when I was happily sitting in the exam room waiting for 45 minutes while the staff looked for the ID card that they took from me during the check-in process and then promptly lost (and later found in someone's pocket...what?). (Losing an ID card on a military base is BBBAAADDD, very bad.) It's not really like me to sit patiently acquiescing like this, I thought. But I realized it fully when I was sitting with my ankle in the doctor's lap and he was sweet-talking me into relaxing while he put needles in my foot. It was almost fun.

Better looking people sometimes get treated better. I know that's not shocking, but it's shameful. I don't really know how to describe it, but I've always felt this is true, about me and about the world, and it's hard to believe. There are certain assumptions I make about beautiful people, and certain assumptions that I make about average people. And not often, and probably less than most. And I know it's not the final judgment, but it does matter. I've been on both sides. And all I can say is: ouch. That hurts.