Plastic Surgery: yes? no? if not now, then when?

This is a very interesting topic and one that is yet another in a string of divisive topics for women. But I do resent being classified as part of the “semi-hysterical groupthink pile-on” by Susan, who happens to be a friend of mine. Albeit a childless friend of mine and I bring this up for a reason. (I would like to say here that while Susan and I disagree on the topic of plastic surgery in general, I did allude quite clearly in my piece to my own struggle with my future as it relates to cosmetic surgery.)

I bring up the fact that Susan isn’t a mother because my piece was directed at this poorly written book to explain a serious topic to children. My overarching concern—beyond the self-loathing women carry with us each day throughout our lives (and yes, it is self-loathing and no it’s not cliche, it’s real)—is personal.

My daughter is absolutely stunning just as she is. And my hope would be that I raise her without all the issues that my mother imparted on me through her own dislike of how she looked. She didn’t mean to do it. But she did. And now I am purposeful in how I denigrate myself in front of her and therefore, my negative self-talk has diminished. It’s not gone entirely but it’s improved from what it was.

Do I have issues with certain aspects of how I look? Yes. Do I want to change them? Sometimes. Would I ever have cosmetic surgery? I don’t know. I struggle with aging, too, and while I’m in my late thirties and am discounted by Susan as acting superior, I’m just processing where I am now and where I’ll be in ten years through the experiences I’ve had so far. Maybe this is hypocritical. I think it’s useful because it forces me to look at myself and accept myself as much as possible. But back to my daughter. All our daughters.

How would you feel if your 8 or 10 or 12 year old daughter wanted to lob off a part of her face? Say…her nose, because it’s too big, too broad, to bumpy? Isn’t it heart breaking that we’ll teach our daughters that how they look is somehow inadequate to an ever changing/tighteneing/plumping standard but that can be easily met with a nip and a tuck? And our sons can become accostomed to a uniform ideal of beauty.

Sure, this stuff needs to be discussed with children but this book is banal and, I think, offensive in the way it portrays the mother. In addition, the author’s comments about the book are telling.

Susan’s arguments are compelling and convincing. Maybe she should write a children’s book explaining why it is that mommy had work done. I have no doubt she could do a better job than the author of the book I wrote about. But there is still something to be said for the implications on children as they watch women they love going under the knife.

Interesting subject, and comments.

I went through some self-examination on this a year or so ago because I had a friend who thought I should ‘accept who I am’ and just, what? I thought, go gray, wrinkly, and saggy if there was anything I could do about it?? After thinking about it I realized that SHE was telling me who I ought to accept as me.

I’ve always put kinda dramatic highlights in my hair, worked out, paid through the nose for face creams when Oil of Olay probably would have done just as well etc etc. THAT is who I am!

I’m not into big time plastic surgery (although I’m perfectly understanding of those who are) but I could easily see the eyelid thing, and maybe a little help with the chin, and definitely some re-surfacing. I’m not sure why I wouldn’t.

I always think when someone makes a judgment about going natural and accepting your age gracefully that they should just go natural the next time they have a toothache or a gallstone What does going natural mean anyway in these days and times?

I think it’s all about knowing who you are and going with it. Isn’t that supposed to be one of the benefits of hitting our midlife stride?

I’ve stayed away from this one, but I’m going to weigh in now.

I, personally, will probably never have any sort of cosmetic surgery done, although the eyelid thing is tempting. However, I don’t have a problem with anyone who wants it (and can afford it).

The book? It’s a GOOD concept, even if it could have been executed in a better manner. Why? Well, lets just say I know of a woman who shall remain nameless *coughBeloved’sExWifecough* who had a fairly radical boob job (from a AA to a C) and told her young daughters, who were 8 and 11 at the time, that she had breast cancer and had to have a radical, double mastectomy and reconstructive surgery to explain the new, big boobs. Oh, and this happened over a three-to-four day period while they were staying with their dad. Diagnosis, surgery and all. Picking up the pieces with these little girls who were hysterical over their mother’s health was a helluva a job.

All because she couldn’t say “You know, I’ve wanted brast implants for years (she had), and it makes me feel better about how I look. It’s really no big deal.”

I was testing out a theory when I sent the link to Aaryn’s article, and so far the perspectives shared here and on ByJane support it. My theory was that midlife bloggers would bring a gentler, more nuanced, “live and let live” perspective to plastic surgery than what I’ve read elsewhere. I’m not singling out Aaryn; the book was covered by mainstream media and countless blogs. The general reaction was what you’d expect: a semi-hysterical groupthink pile-on.

I’m not defending the book. I think it would have been more useful if it showed how to explain *any* hospitalization to kids, and steered away from the cosmetic aspect. What ticks me off is the judgmental response — particularly the idea that anyone who wants to make a change in their appearance is vain, shallow, desperate, insecure, unhappy and in need of therapy. As Mary McNamara, Television Critic for the Los Angeles Times, said, “If women look old, we criticize, and if they try to fix it, we criticize more snidely.”

People do weird things to their bodies all the time. I happen to think that tattooing large sections of skin is weird, along with lip piercings, nose rings, and earlobe gauging. But to each his (or her) own.

I’ve had two plastic surgeries in my life — one aesthetic, one practical. When I was 12 I had my protruding ears fixed; and then about six years ago I had surgery for skin cancer, resulting in a large portion of my nose being removed. Thanks to an extremely skilled plastic surgeon, people rarely notice that I have a 2″ scar in the middle of my face. My husband had a pronounced double chin removed, along with an eyelift and a brow lift. The recovery was painful yet he was determined to do it, because he’d always been self-conscious about his chin (it wouldn’t go away with weight loss). He’s extremely happy with the results. I wouldn’t go through what he did — but damn he looks good!

So can we do away with the cliche that plastic surgery is a sign of self-loathing, please? It’s far more unhealthy to be looking in the mirror everyday and saying, “I hate my (fill in the blank).” If something bothers you that much, get it fixed and move on with your life.

And I love it when some 30-something tells me I need to “age gracefully,” as if I weren’t already trying my hardest to do just that. Aging gracefully means that I get to choose from all the tools available: cosmetics, hair dye, facials, dermabrasion, lasers, injections, surgery, or the like. Being graceful means making wise, informed, and subtle choices. Hitting a middle ground between the extremes of “letting oneself go” and “blowing oneself up.”

Since I know where I want to be on that continuum, why do I care what the blogosphere thinks? Well, for one thing, I don’t like hypocrisy. If a 20-year-old gets shot with ink for a tattoo, it’s no big deal. But when a 50-year-old gets shot with collagen, she’s making a futile attempt to recapture her lost youth. Women like Helen Mirren and Judi Dench are held up as examples of “natural beauty” — as if they hadn’t had their teeth capped or their skin lasered. Pretending they represent an effortless attainable standard is just plain cruel. You don’t look that way without terrific genes, money and help.

We shouldn’t have to lie about what we’ve done, hide it, apologize or feel guilty. Instead of ridiculing other women for trying to look good, we should be demanding better, safer products and procedures. I’d love to fill in my scowl lines because they make me look disapproving and angry. It would cost $400 — at minimum — and last six months, maybe a year if I’m lucky. That’s a waste of money. I’m waiting for the price to come down and the durability to improve. When it does I’ll be the first in line at the doctor’s office…. then I’ll climb into my fast new car, drive off with my handsome husband, and continue to enjoy my midlife crisis.

Sorry for the long comment… and I didn’t even touch on male bloggers dictating which surgeries would be considered acceptable and which weren’t!