Anita Phillips was ugly. I should know. I had to sit behind her, looking at the back of her head during the entire sixth grade. She had big ears, stringy hair and bumps on her head the size of golf balls. If her parents weren’t so cheap, they would have sought the services of a good plastic surgeon for her and spared me a lifetime of suffering. But things could have been worse. In between looking at the back of Anita’s head and staring off into space, I tried to imagine what it would be like to have birth anomalies more serious than big ears. Like having two left feet.
As I imagine it, having two left feet could present just as many advantages as disadvantages. True, having two left feet would put me into a perpetual right-hand turn, but I’d never have to worry if I had my shoes on the correct feet when I got dressed in the dark. And, although there would always be a tendency for my body to list toward the right, I could easily compensate for it by assuming a super-wide stance. I could buy dozens of pairs of shoes and give all the “righties” to some needy person who was oppositely afflicted.
Another anomaly I wouldn’t mind having is “eyes in the back of my head.” Having both eyes looking forward is supposed to be one of man’s greatest advantages over the other species. With both eyes in front, we’re supposed to have better depth perception and improved peripheral vision. On the down side, having both eyes in front of my head has made it a lot easier for class clowns to tape “kick me” signs on my back. Having eyes in the back of my head could help me assess the past and make decisions on how I might have done things better. When one of my friends asked me, “Did you see the rack on that chick?” I’d just answer, “Yeah. I’m looking at them now.” Having eyes in the back of my head could potentially eliminate thousands of moving violations over the years – most importantly, speeding tickets. Of course, there could also be some disadvantages. Getting a haircut could be tricky. The first thing I’d have to do is remind my hair stylist, “Hey, just to let you know… I have a couple of eyes to watch out for, back there.” Not only would it keep her on her toes, there’d be no need for the hand mirror inspection when she was done.
I’d also have to change my entire approach to walking, running, skiing and swimming. Swimming would be great. Since my eyes would be facing up, I could gaze up at the sky and save money by eliminating goggles. Adapting to walking would tough. It would mean that I’d either have to be constantly looking over my shoulder or contrive some sort of mirrored contraption to wear around my neck – like bicyclists use to see behind them.
I’ve also thought it would be great to have “eyes bigger than my stomach”. Now, that could mean one of two things: either I had a tiny, little stomach that would need to be constantly fed, or I would have two huge eyes. Since the average human stomach is about 12 inches long, I’d have to have a face the size of a washing machine to accommodate eyes that big. Assuming that my eyes were that large, I’d be able to take in enormous amounts of visual stimuli. My contact lenses would be the size of Frisbees and would require both hands just to remove them. While I’d never have to worry about losing one in the carpet, it would cost me a fortune in wetting solution.
I can also see the value in “being all thumbs.” Having opposing thumbs is what is supposed to set man apart from the rest of the animal kingdom, but it’s not always what it’s cracked up to be. Take hitchhiking. Currently, hitchhikers only have two positions –forehand and backhand. Hitchhikers with 10 thumbs would have an infinite variety of stances – handy for spending long hours on the road. Unfortunately, being all thumbs could also present more challenges than benefits. I’ve never had much success picking my nose with my thumb. And, imagine how difficult it would be to perform brain surgery with 10 thumbs. On the other hand, if I were a criminal it would be nearly impossible to identify me from a set of 10 identical thumbprints.
I’d like to have a “grin from ear to ear.” There could be a lot of advantages to having a mouth that hinged near my ears, letting me split my head down the middle into two sections. Cleaning my teeth would be a snap for my dental hygienist. I could just lay my head back, open it in half and relax. Of course, since my mouth would be so much wider, I’d probably have 20 or 30 extra teeth, so it would cost more. My approach to shaving would have to change. And unless my date had the same anomaly, that first alarming kiss would look like an attack from Jaws.
If I had my way, I’d also like to be “all ears.” If I were all ears, I might have a head covered with pinnas and ear canals, leaving little room for eyes or a nose – which would be OK if you had eyes in the back of your head. And, it begs the question, how would all of those ears be distributed? Would they flower concentrically around a logical center on my forehead, or would they be layered like a shingled roof? Who’s to say that they wouldn’t completely cover my body? If I had ears completely covering my body, it would be much easier to listen into other people’s conversations. If I needed someone to repeat something, instead of leaning my head toward them, I could just reach out my hand. On the downside, being all ears would mean I’d have to budget for thousands of Q-tips a month – to keep up with the never-ending build-up of wax.
In addition to anomalies with body parts, there would also be dozens of colors I could assimilate: “green with envy,” “tickled pink,” and “white as a sheet” to name a few. If I were really capable of becoming green with envy, I’d probably get invited to a lot more Christmas parties – although it would severely restrict my fashion choices. If I were ever sick with jaundice, my skin would turn blue instead of yellow.
If I were “tickled pink,” people would constantly mistake me for being sunburned and slather me SPF300. On the plus side, they’d never be able to tell if I was embarrassed, so I’d be free to fart in the elevator.
If I were “white as a sheet,” I’d never be able to tan and get lost in between the sheets.
Beyond all of these physical anomalies, there are a host of others that I haven’t had time to explore, like “being beside myself,” “letting the cat get my tongue,” “having a frog in my throat” or “putting my foot in my mouth.” I’ll save that for another day.
