Molly Schoemann Explores the Deep

I have recently come to terms with the fact that I watch undersea documentaries because they make me feel better about myself. That discovery made me go back to feeling bad, though.
It all started last summer, when on a whim I bought the BBC miniseries "Blue Planet: Seas of Life". Its episodes explore various oceanic realms and their inhabitants, from penguins to fish to…smaller, pointier fish. Ok, so I haven't learned that much from it. I don't pay close attention to the proper British narrator and his pipe-clenched-in-teeth-voiceovers. I'm all about the action—and there's plenty of it.

It's like watching a soap opera, except certain characters eat other characters, and the script is better. Myriad undersea creatures have stormy, outrageous relationships that make mine look functional. My boyfriend might eat the last muffin, but at least he doesn’t eat his rivals. We may be codependent, but at least he’s not fused to my abdomen and obtaining his nutrition from my bloodstream.

These creatures fight each other over territory and mates, risk their lives to travel hundreds of miles to produce billions of tiny offspring which they then completely ignore, and clean parasites off of other species in exchange for protection and food. Abandonment, betrayal, risky alliances, exploitation, nudity—it’s like Girls Gone Wild meets Jerry Springer meets The Little Mermaid.

I love the microcosm of it. My breath will catch in my throat as a tiny, wriggly pink crab crouches in the sand to hide from an enormous eel. I may be used to laughing cynically as crazed killers slash dozens of anonymous teenagers in horror films, but watching death happen in a nature film is different, because it’s real. When the scene ends, that little pink crab doesn’t emerge from the sand, brush itself off, light a cigarette and have a friendly chat with the eel about its motivation.

My favorite episode by far is the one about the freaky creatures in the Deep Ocean. These are some crazy-looking fish. There is a reason there is precious little light in those waters, and no mirrors. Fish find their mates purely on accident, bumping up against one another in the darkness, like college freshmen. It’s better that they can’t see each other. In my scientific opinion, the deep ocean looks like a dive bar at 8am the morning after Dollar Tequila night. Yet another reason why these shows boost my self esteem: I am totally prettier than almost ALL of those fish. I may wake up with bags under my eyes and bad hair, but I will never wake up with bulgy, glowing white eyes, craggy teeth like needles, and skin the texture and color of tree moss…God willing.

Granted, comparing my own looks to those of fish found four miles under the surface of the ocean is not really fair. We live in two different worlds, and have very different standards of beauty, not to mention edibleness. And if we ever crossed paths, they'd probably think I'm no prize, either.