The Secret to Eternal Youth and Beauty

This is not me but I like to pretend that it is.

“If your life were a movie, who would you want to play you?” 

“Jessica Chastain, duh.”

“But she’s older than you.”

“She’s hotter than me too.”

It was one of those conversations that a normal person would have forgotten by now, but some part of my brain held onto it for further review and coughed it up again a day or two ago, for no apparent reason, as I was walking out of work. And being me, I decided to take it apart to examine the pieces. 

So, today in Gwydhar Overthinks Things: My Life As A Movie.

First, there is the assumption that some part of my life is or will be movie worthy. Since no one is beating down my door to buy my life- rights, I think it’s safe to assume that my personal narrative arc is still in the early stages. At present, I’d say that I’m in a montage sequence where a lot of time gets skipped over while the character learns skills and prepares for an adventure ahead. There’s probably a lot of useful exposition being planted right now, so I ought to pay attention to the people crossing my path because they might be important. And I ought to be on the lookout for catch phases because now’s as good a time as ever to begin the marketing campaign. 

With this assumption in mind, I must also assume that the main part of my adventure is still in the future, which means that I’ll be older by the time it actually happens, which means that I’ll be older still by the time someone else decides it’s worthy of a biopic (because making your own biopic is a bit self interested). And by the time it gets funded and greenlit I’ll probably be dead. And I’m planning to live to be a hundred and twenty so, alas, I’ll probably never get to see my life on screen as portrayed by Jessica Chastain. 

So that’s the bad news.

Let’s say that this coming year is the year that turns out to be movie worthy. Let’s pretend that the montage is about to fade out and tomorrow I am going to get The Call saying that the princess needs to be rescued or the space station blown up or the Ark of the Covenant rescued from Nazi’s and that on Friday I set out on my adventure. I still have to live through it, and, I mean, these things take time. Empires aren’t toppled in a day. 

So I’m thirty four now. Let’s say that I’m able to squeeze all the important acts of derring do into a year or two. I’ll be thirty six or thirty seven, but the movie would need to cast someone who could look thirty four, which in this town means casting someone who is twenty six. And while we’re on the subject, there’s the matter of hotness- I’d consider myself somewhere in the neighborhood of a seven on a ten point hotness scale, but you can get more butts in seats with a ten, so I can safely presume that my image will be upgraded for the sake of marketability. 

So the movie version of me is younger and hotter than me. And immortal. It is the movie version of me that people will start to remember as the real me in the same way that I can’t help but think of Frida Khalo without thinking of her as portrayed by Selma Hayek.  

So my takeaway is that if I want to stay young and beautiful forever, all I have to do is live a life interesting enough to turn into a Hollywood movie. It’s a little bit like the reverse of The Picture of Dorian Grey where, in real life, I can get as old and gnarled as I please while still appearing to stay young forever. 

As long as it’s not a prestige piece. Oh god, please don’t let my life turn out to be Oscar bait.

~ by Gwydhar Gebien on February 15, 2017.

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