Tonight, I was watching ABC's new reality TV show True Beauty and enjoying it quite immensely.  After all, who among my readers would not get a kick out of watching a bunch of gorgeous people thinking they're in a beauty contest while not realizing they're being judged on inner beauty?!

Let me back up first for those of you who are not familiar with the show.  As mentioned above, there are contestants -- ten, to be precise -- on this show.  They all think that they are the epitome of physical beauty.  In my humble opinion, some of them are, shall we say, less than incredibly physically gorgeous, but that's neither here nor there.  Anyway, they are all brought together and told that they are all competing for the title of America's most beautiful person (and $100k cash, and a spot in People Magazine's upcoming 100 Most Beautiful People edition).  What they're not told is that much of their everyday interaction -- the waiter spilling something on them, the coffee dude who needs help opening a door, etc., is a set-up scenario designed to test them.  Hidden cameras are all over the place, capturing them as they are when they think no one is watching.
The judges come up with a way to objectively pick two competitors -- this week, it was a scientific analysis that quantified their physical appearance into a number between 1 and 100 -- to join them in the Hall of Beauty -- basically Tribal Council from Survivor.  They say why they should stay, and then the judges send one of them back to the house while they kick the loser off... but not before telling them the secret of the game.

Tonight was highly amusing, as the contestants introduced themselves quite vainly -- some openly admitting that they "can be a cocky S.O.B. at times", some coming straight out and saying that they know that they are easily the most beautiful person in the country.  Of course, the audience is sitting around laughing because we know these people are being judged not only on their outer beauty, but their inner beauty: "So long, you 'cocky S.O.B.!'"  Immediately the contestants paste on their fake smiles and start passing out pathetic excuses for hugs (a dreadful crime, but that's not a matter for this post).  I think it took them four minutes before they started with the left-handed compliments, and it quickly devolved into a very obvious show of who hated whom.

A waiter tripped and knocked over a chocolate fondue fountain, spilling it on several of the contestants.  One of the guys immediately helped the waiter up and started cleaning off the others (both the men and the women, though he did appear to enjoy wiping the chocolate off one woman's legs a little more than he enjoyed cleaning another guy's face...) while other contestants began swearing.  Guess who won points with the judges?

A certified plastic surgeon who has a mathematical way of quantifying beauty performed an analysis on each contestant individually.  His nurse was a hired actor who kept making comments about the contestants -- not all of which were appreciated, like the one about one girls "granny-butt".  Each contestant was left alone in the examination room for several minutes.  Conveniently, the doctor had left every contestant's medical file sitting right next to the person in the exam room...  Would they take a peek?  One woman reached for them, but came away with a tissue from the nearby box instead.  Most people saw them but ignored them.  One woman looked at her own file -- before she nosed through several others.  One of the men dove straight into the files with wild abandon.  Guess who lost points with the judges?

The two women who had the lowest scores didn't take the news well.  One of them was stunned nearly speechless, while the other one was stunned into a fit of profanity.  The latter woman spent the afternoon sobbing and complaining and bickering and moping and you get the idea.  The other tried to keep a good face on.  And then the Beauty Bus came to take them to the Hall of Beauty for judgement -- but not before their final test!

They were sent in one at a time, and as each of them reached the door, they found a production assistant carrying entirely too much coffee having difficult getting the door open.  The woman who had kept a good face all afternoon opened the door for him and let him go through first.  When the queen of moping got her chance, she just stared at him, opened the door, walked through, and let the door shut before he could get through...  You can guess who went home.

By this time you're probably wondering what has gotten into me, as I do not normally write reviews of TV shows.  Well, you're in luck, because that's not what this is.  There is a moral to the story!

As my father and I were watching, we were laughing quite hysterically at the contestants and how they behaved in contrast with how they were really being judged.  It was a dream come true for anyone who has ever been treated like crap on a stick by someone who knew they were gorgeous!  And then I realized something as I was talking to Lauren tonight: "laughing at their miserable failures kind of makes us into what we're criticizing them for being".
That's right.  By rejoicing in their ignorance and consequent failure, we were becoming just as bad as they were.  In fact, the whole principle of this show -- to teach people that beauty isn't just a physical attribute -- while admirable, was being advanced by a method that made the hosts and producers just as mean as the contestants.
I'm not saying the show is wrong, nor will I cease to watch it, because as I also told Lauren, "on the other hand, it's sooooooo good to see karma bite them in their perfectly-sculpted little hiney" -- a statement by which I stand quite firmly.  And maybe, just maybe, some of them will rethink their ways when they see the nationally-aired video footage of how much of a conceited jerk they were.  Maybe some audience members will learn a thing or two.

And so I present you with the moral of my story:  While it's better to be nice, sometimes the right thing to do isn't The Right Thing To Do and manners need to be defenestrated.  But if you're going to be less than nice, make sure you're doing it for a good reason.

Disclaimer:  While this is a serious post, hyperbole and a slight dash of sarcasm may be used from time to time to illustrate a point.  If something seems inaccurate, step back, take a deep breath, and see if there's a chance that I'm not being 100% serious with the phrase in question.
Also, my apologies for any lack of structure or thoroughness you may find -- unlike most of my posts, this was birthed from more of a general concept that a concrete thought process.

So often, pastors and youth leaders and motivational speakers and psychologists and anyone else who stereotypically thinks they know how to live our lives better than we do tells us to open up and be honest with our friends:  "How are you doing today?"  "Oh, actually, today's not going so well, I could use a hug."  Similarly, we are encouraged not to let a response of "I'm fine" slide unchecked if we know something is up -- after all, if they look like they've just been crying, they're probably not fine and what they really need is to drop everything and tell you the most recent chapter in their life's story.

Well, folks, I'm here to tell you that the issue, at least from my perspective, is not black and white.  This should not come as a surprise to those who know me, as I see almost everything in many shades of grey.  At this moment, I'm not exactly sure to what end I'm writing this post -- I haven't given much thought to it yet -- but I know where I'm starting and where I'm ending, so see if you can keep up, because once I start writing, I only slow down to get something to eat.

The first thing I'd like to say is that honestly answering the question "How are you?" and its many variations any time it is asked of you can be potentially embarrassing, awkward, detrimental, and inappropriate.  I'll start with inappropriate:  if you're in a staff meeting at work, and you get bad news (say your father just died), when the boss asks how you're doing, the beginning of the staff meeting is probably not the best time to just up and announce to the entire room that your father just died.  You're in a staff meeting, for heaven's sake!  The time there is dedicated to the staff meeting, not your dead father.  Spilling your guts then and there is just as rude as intentionally taking a debate or Q/A session off-topic to suit your own personal agenda (don't get me started on that).
An honest answer to a casual inquiry to your welfare can also be embarrassing, awkward, and detrimental:  when someone asks how you're doing, honestly, they usually don't expect anything other than a casual "I'm okay" or the like.  It's a social script U.S. American society has written.  If you change up the script, the question asker will be thrown for a loop because you didn't give them the line they expected.  This can lead to them being embarrassment on both sides (to keep with the script metaphor, you both are caught with nothing to say in front of an audience expecting you to say something), an awkward tension (for the same reason), and can deteriorate the relationship between you and the other person (they may resent you on some level for embarrassing them in the aforementioned ways).

On the asking side of the question, pressing the matter also isn't always the greatest of ideas.  Example: You come into class with red eyes, like you've been crying.  I ask if everything is alright (I obviously know something is off based on your appearance), and you say everything is okay.  I tell you I know something's up, and again, I ask you what's the matter.  You, tired of my badgering (your patience most likely lowered by whatever has been making you cry), either 1) spill your guts in front of the entire class, or 2) leave class, probably very angry with me.  Either way, my insistence has almost definitely had a negative impact on you and/or our relationship.  Again, this can qualify as inappropriate, embarrassing, awkward, and/or detrimental.

Or, perhaps, you again insist that everything is fine, bottle up your feelings, and become angry with me for trying to force you into a situation that is inappropriate, embarrassing, awkward, and/or detrimental.  And in all fairness, I don't have the right to blame you -- in this situation, I shouldn't have insisted.

So, having shown the evils of both answering honestly and expecting an honest answer, is there any way the simple question of "How are you?" can be redeemed?  I think there is.  It's simple: discretion.  Wait for the right time and place to ask how someone is (or to tell someone how you're doing).  If you're not close friends with someone, don't expect them to want to know (or want to tell you) every intimate detail of your life.  I know that if you've had a rotten day or just received some tragic news, it's a little hard to think straight, but give it a shot.

And so now I to where I wanted to end -- how this applies to my relationships.  What follows is no longer hypothetical.  I encourage you to remember it in any future interactions we have.

Against my better judgment, I'm going to say go ahead and ask me how my day has been even if you're just expecting me to follow the near-universally-accepted social script.  Most of the time, I'll stick to the script so you don't have to panic and improvise.  If you expect an honest answer, though, and you think I'm holding out on you, please consider the immediate situation.  If you ask again, am I likely to change my answer on the spot?  Probably not.  If you really care, show it by finding me later in a "safer" environment and asking again.

If I ever give an answer of "Not here," "Long story," or something similar, what I'm really saying is, "If you really want to know, ask me at another time and place."  Respect that.  Of course, if you really don't want to know -- something I won't hold against you, as for all I know you could have had a worse day and don't need my bad day weighing you down, too -- don't feel obligated to follow up.  If you don't want to hear what I have to say, then I really don't want to tell you.  Please note that not wanting to know doesn't mean you don't care about me -- it could just mean that your bad-thing tank is full enough with me adding to it.  Not wanting to hear about my crappy day doesn't necessarily mean you love me any less.  In fact, just the opposite: if my bad day makes your bad day worse, I'll feel worse for bringing you down, and in the end, we've both lost twice.

So I guess the bottom line in the context of my friendships is this: if I'm not being completely honest with you, I have my reasons; respect that.  If you love me, and you want to know (again, not always the same thing), then wait until my reasons are no longer valid before asking again.  And if you've had enough bad news for one day, don't let me bring you down further -- it'll just make my day worse, too.