Last night, I had an Oprah “a-ha moment.”  There we were, watching the Academy Awards. Dozens of beautiful celebrities graced the screen. Reese Witherspoon. Julianne Moore. And the perfect Jennifer Aniston herself.

I was in awe of these beauties as I sat on my couch pushing fists of popcorn into my mouth.  I was wearing tight-ankled sweatpants. They were in floor-length gowns.  I wore my un-shampooed hair in a bun with a rubber band which was previously wrapped around the Doritos bag. They wore updos and chignons. I was flawed and in awe. They were flawless.

My husband however was less amused. Our banter was effortless but surprising.

“Look at her!”  “She looks like a turtle.”  “What about her? That skin!”  “Meh.”  “Oh my gosh, could she be more gorgeous?”  “Yep, she could.”

It amazes me how my definition beauty differs from my husband. I would trade places with Rachel McAdams in a heartbeat.  My husband could take her or leave her.  I gush over Modern Family’s Sofia Vergara.  Jamal doesn’t even know her name. In my next life, I’d like to be Jennifer Garner.  Jamal would rather hang out with her husband.

But there is one “celebrity” he does love. But she’s as far from the Academy Awards as you could imagine. My husband is in love with Rebecca Romney, the “rare books” expert on the reality television series, Pawn Stars.

Don’t get me wrong, I also think Rebecca is a pretty girl.  But she’s no Charlize Theron.  And she certainly doesn’t have a million dollar contract with Revlon, nor a Glamour Magazine cover.  Rebecca is, well, the pretty girl next store.  Or rather, the pretty girl next bookstore.

Yet, Jamal drools over Rebecca.  He loves the way she paws through an old book.  He loves the way that she inspects a book binding as if she were a CSI. He loves her blazers, her bobbed hair, and her funny little laugh.  To Jamal, Rebecca is the epitome of beauty.  As far as he’s concerned, Charlize can simply hold her books.

A funny thing happens when you learn the taste of your husband.  You realize that for all of these years, as you tried to have the perfect haircut and the flawless skin and perfect waist, all you needed to do was pick up a book.

Kudos, Rebecca.  For keeping beauty real.