plastic

saturday night i was having dinner with my friends and one of them pointed out a woman at a table near us, “look at that horrific surgery!” he stage-whispered. we all immediately glanced over to see her pulled skin and plumped lips staring back at us, amused almost.

when another friend lamented this woman's seemingly poor choice of doctor, i countered that i have noticed more and more obvious “work” recently and i am beginning to suspect that “bad work” is actually becoming desired and prized. i am wondering if “bad work” is the new Birkin. 

much like a status handbag, with "bad work" everyone can see that you obviously have the means to throw at something elective, indulgent and frankly, exorbitant in this time of economic strain. it is, maybe, a new and aggressive status symbol.

back in high school my mother suggested i get my nose “fixed” and that my chin could be “dealt with” at the same time. i refused. i must confess, i was tempted and while deliberating the option, i spent a lot of time staring at myself in the mirror. straight on, i noticed only my eyes, but my profile was another story. politely, i could call my nose “prominent” or maybe even “distinct” but i have an unusual profile by any account.

once in a while i still consider what it would’ve been like to live with a more conforming face. would i have been prettier? would I have grown into my looks with the same wit and edge? would my personality have changed with my face? in the end, that was what scared me away. even at fifteen, i wondered, where would i go if my face was no longer mine?

refusing to change my face was the first step in embracing my quirks. slowly i learned to emphasize what made me unique and enjoy the attention of standing apart from the herd.

many of my friends have started dabbling in minor work, injectables, peels etc. i have yet to cross the line. i can’t say that i will never go that route, but i also can’t imagine losing what i have grown into either. the lines and crinkles on my face show not just my age, but my story, erasing them seems too close to losing something of myself.