Reality of Plastic Surgery

Sadly I’ve noticed over the past 16 years that my face seems to be developing wrinkles at an alarming rate. As I vainly examine my wrinkles, I notice they are a road map to my past. There are the, “Will I pass this final exam?” wrinkles which were birthed while I was in college. The, “Will I get a job?” wrinkles came shortly after. Tom and I both sport the, “Will we be able to make ends meet?” wrinkles which first came into existence at the beginning of our marriage and have deepened periodically since. We also both have the, “Can we afford to have a baby?” and “Oh no, this next baby is coming about a year and a half early!” And, I am sure that we will never lose our, “Am I doing the right thing as a parent?” wrinkles.

A while back I was complaining about the deep wrinkles between my eyes. My cousin asked me why I scowled so much. She assumed this to be the cause of the wrinkles. In actuality I’ve learned it is from squinting at the sun. I now wear sunglasses nearly all the time when I am outside as a means to combat the enemy. I’m not that confident that it is working.

Tom likes to tease me because anytime I see a commercial for a new face cream claiming to restore youth, I buy it. I’m clinging to the hope that just one more bottle ought to do the trick.

Not all my wrinkles are bad. I have some deep lines around my mouth and some wispy ones by my eyes which say, “I love spending time with my family,” and, “I have the best friends.”

At one time I thought about getting Botox. I figured if this was the one vain indulgence I afforded myself then have at it. Well, one night I was watching a reality TV show and a woman got Botox on her face in the same exact troublesome areas that I have. As the doctor came at her face with a giant needle, I screamed. The reality TV star wasn’t screaming but that is OK because I was screaming for her. I was also shouting, “He’ll poke your eye out!” I decided after that to stick with my creams. No way was a doctor getting that close to my eyes with a needle.

At one time I also considered liposuction. It was a very brief dream shortly after the birth of my daughters when no amount of diet and exercise seemed to be having an impact on my saddlebags. Again, I was watching a reality TV show and liposuction was performed. That doctor rammed an iron stick up and down into this poor woman’s body over and over. He looked like he had an ice pick in his hand and he was fanatically chipping away at her. My hips and thighs were instantly sore. It was as if they had a mind and eyes of their own and could see what was happening to this poor woman. They were screaming, “Please no! Please don’t do that to us!” I comforted my hips and thighs with a donut and assured them that we would never let that crazy doctor near us with his ice chipper.

I have very thin hair. It is genetic. When thoughts of Botox and liposuction were banished, I thought maybe hair plugs would be the way to go. Perhaps I could be happy with wrinkles and saddlebags if I at least had a full head of hair. Well as fate would have it, I saw a man get hair plugs on, you guessed it, a reality TV show. First the doctor scalped the patient and then they treated his head like a giant pin cushion. I almost vomited. I did develop a raging headache. If the need arises, I will just use a wig. If it was good enough for Grandma, then it is good enough for me.

As I write this column, I realize one of two things is clearly evident. One, plastic surgeons should stop performing their services on TV. They are scaring away their customers. Or two, I watch too much reality TV. Perhaps both are true. Either way, I think it is safe to say there will be no Botox, liposuction, or hair plugs in my future. I’ll stick to creams, running, and wigs.