Plain, Reliable Betty
Dr. Cohen’s counseling office wasn’t
what I'd expected. I had been nervous about going there ever since I made the
appointment. What if all she did was nod her head and peer over her reading
glasses and say, “Hmm, I see.” What if she was mean to me? Worst of all, what
if she’d never seen anyone so needy and couldn’t help me? Still, I knew I
needed to do something, so I made the appointment, and there I was.
Right away, I found the office
pleasantly inviting. I’d expected gray furnishings and walls, perhaps a few
motivational posters with perky sayings on them. Instead, the beautiful
reception area with sage green walls and fern-patterned sofas didn’t feel like
a counseling office at all. It felt more like a cozy living room.
After I checked in, I sat down and
picked up a copy of People magazine, pleased to find it was current. Most
doctor’s offices seemed to prefer dog-eared copies about a decade old.
“Betty Brown? Dr. Cohen will see you
now.”
I took a deep breath and placed the
People magazine back on the table. I would just have to wait to find out
which Hollywood power couple was divorcing that week.
Like the reception area, the
doctor’s office was a nice surprise. First, I was relieved that there was no
red leather couch for me to lie down on. Instead, two beautiful wingback chairs
in a turquoise geometric print sat before the doctor’s desk, a simple glass and
metal piece. For some reason, I liked that her desk was glass. Talk about
transparency!
Dr. Cohen, who had short, spiky gray
hair, stood and shook my hand. “I’m so happy to meet you, Betty. Before we
begin, would you mind telling me a little about yourself?”
That was what I was there for, after
all, so I gave her the scoop.
“I was born in England, and my family
moved to this country in the 1960s. I went through elementary, middle, and high
school just fine with no rebellion, little of the customary teenage angst. My
parents said I gave them very little trouble.”
I paused, and Dr. Cohen nodded
affirmingly. I liked that.
“So the early years were fine, but
in college…” I said with a sniffle. “That’s when it first hit me how truly
plain I was. Or am, rather. All the other gals had dates every weekend, but I
never got asked out. Not once. Oh, I did things with groups of friends, but it
wasn’t the same. I always wanted a boyfriend, but I never got one.”
When I paused, Dr. Cohen gently
asked, “And you’re still single today?”
“Yes,” I said, and the tears began
to trickle once more. “I’m still just plain, reliable Betty, the one everyone
relies on but no one ever thinks to talk to at a party. I’m so taken for
granted. Dr. Cohen, is something wrong with me?”
Dr. Cohen smiled and shook her head.
“Betty, in both my personal and
professional opinion, there’s certainly nothing wrong with wanting to belong,
with wanting a relationship. But what I’m concerned about is that you seem to
be letting others define you.”
Puzzled by what she’d said, I
stopped sniffling.
“How so?”
“First, do you call yourself plain,
reliable Betty?” she asked.
“Well, no.”
“So you’ve heard someone else call
you that?”
“No one’s ever actually called me
plain to my face, but I can tell they’re thinking it. And they have called me
reliable. Everybody says that like it’s so great.”
“So you would prefer to be thought
unreliable?”
“No!” I quickly said. “Of course
not.”
Dr. Cohen was hard to read right
then. She said, “So why would you mind being thought of as reliable?”
“Hmm.” I hesitated. “I guess I don’t
mind being thought of as reliable, but I don’t want to be thought of only as
reliable. Does that make sense?”
“Betty, in my practice, I see
teapots every day who are thoroughly unreliable. Some of them have cracks and
chips that won’t ever be repaired. Some of the so-called pretty ones are such narcissists, all they do is sit around staring at their own reflection in the
china cabinet. They’ve never actually been called into service and have
certainly never proven to be reliable serving pieces.”
I had not given much thought to
those attractive teapots I had envied. “Really?” I said.
“You would be surprised at the
teapots that have come into this office. And then there are those who truly
want to serve but have some unfortunate physical defect that makes them unable
to function well.”
“I know just who you’re talking
about—the drippers!” Betty said. “I don’t mean to brag, Doctor, but I never
drip. Ever.”
“I know that, Betty. Your family is
well known for your excellent service through the years. You’ve always been
considered … well, plain and reliable, if you don’t mind my saying so.”
I found myself sitting up a little
straighter in that pretty wingback chair of hers. “I think I see your point,” I
said.
“Why don’t you go home and work on a
list of all the things that are actually good about being plain and reliable,”
Dr. Cohen said, “and then come back in two weeks, and we’ll discuss how you
feel about it.”
I nodded, told her I’d book the
appointment on my way out, and thanked her for her time. Dr. Cohen had
certainly given me a new way of looking at things.
As I stood at the reception desk
waiting to get my appointment card, I noticed a handsome gentleman, a hunter
green Chatsford teapot, waiting in a chair and holding the new issue of Sports
Illustrated.
And to my surprise and amazement, he
smiled at me! Was I plain and reliable? Yes. And so much more.
