Its unfortunate how many people want to either be in their neighbors’ shoes (the guy who drives the latest BMW, or the person they spotted winning the lottery on television, or the celebrity with the million dollar mansion, or their best friend who has the most drop dead gorgeous girlfriend.  Everyone wants to be someone else.  Nobody seems to want to earn their own stripes.  Instant gratification, faster recognition, and being instantaneously wealthy are on the wish-list of every single teenager. Why aren’t people happy being comfortable in their own skin?  Why would you ever want to be in someone else’s gear even if it’s the niftiest pair of Gucci?  Prada?  Or even Burberry?

Ever heard of Ursula wanting hair like Janelle, and Janelle wanting to have a nose like Ursula?  Or skinny Ted wanting to have a six-pack like his friend Tom. Everything is superficial—there’s nothing skin deep.  If you take a survey of 10 people, nearly 7 out of the 10 tell you that they are unhappy with themselves.  Of their hair, color of their eyes or skin, breasts, penises, their beer bellies, even the shape of their hands.  Take it to the next level, and they’re unhappy with their vehicles, homes, and spouses. The shallow parody of celebrities who have gone through every kind of nip and tuck under the sun has got through to the hoi-polloi who watch these ridiculous celebrities and then emulate them.  Perhaps, the worst part is that there are no worthwhile role models—celebrity or family— to emulate, or are they?

In my case my parents were my role models, and I am proud about them.  There is no shyness, or insecurity in stating that fact. I patented much of my adulthood on the sacrifices that they went through for me and my siblings as we grew up.  My Dad was jobless for many years, and went through his own purgatory of depression.  While Mum took on the multiple roles of child minder, office-goer, weekend chef, math teacher, homework doer, knitter of jerseys, seamstress and financial consultant.  My parents may have had major issues with each other (but I never saw them quarrel in front of us).  They would go for a walk, and by the time they came back I knew all was forgiven and forgotten.  They gave us the confidence to grow by making mistakes—I was one of the best sprinters in my family—and all the scabs on both my knees attested to the fact; that to make it to the finishing line I would have to fall, and some of those falls would have me screaming in agony.  I believe it was because of those literal hard knocks that today I can persevere though tough times without growing faint or weary of heart.

Food was never ever wasted, leftovers miraculously turned into new dishes the next day.  Likewise my elder brother’s overgrown clothes became mine with a little bit of patchwork—here and there, and not everything matched so I looked like a bit of Oliver Twist, a little bit of David Copperfield.  Because I was the youngest I often got the leftovers—textbooks that were nearly falling apart, crayons that were but an inch in length, socks that had a hole too many, and belts that never quite fitted.  Looking back I often laugh as God has been magnanimous and I can today afford the best things that money can buy—but the honest truth is that if I had always got what I wanted I might have turned out differently; a spoiled little asshole, in short.  But as life would have it I am appreciative about everything that comes my way as it always required an effort to gain the reward.

So what does it really mean to be comfortable in one’s skin?  I do not desire a Rolex, or a Samsung on my wrist—I think that they are preposterously and stupidly expensive.  However I can still walk tall—I don’t need an antsy-fancy Smartphone, or a pair of Ray-bans and I drive a 5 year old Toyota Corolla.  So it’s not the toys that I possess that make me the man I am.  I am content, happy and joyful from within, and it’s reflective in the way I come across to others.  I am gifted with wisdom, and intelligence, a fairly high EQ, and that’s what counts.  Though I admire other men and women for their gifted looks, and talents I know that what I possess they don’t.  They compliment me, and I them. The honesty, integrity and values, coupled with the genes and DNA that my parents instilled in me are forever and I wouldn’t trade that for any of the counterfeited blabber dash of the world.

Jude Paul Fernandes is the author of ‘Frost Bites’ that is available in the Toronto Public Library, and he can be followed @JudePaulFerns