Plastic surgery and fish tales…
Cast me a little line here and just let me say that I am not opposed to elective plastic surgery procedures for anyone who wants them.
I don’t judge those who are hooked on it.
It’s their pond, lake or ocean to swim in.
But me? I’ve got some work I could have done on my face. Body. Butt more about this later.
This post is a reaction to a segment I saw on the Today Show this morning about celebrities with both “natural” and botched plastic surgery. A guest plastic surgeon commented that with a good natural aesthetic outcome, you have no idea which celebrities have had work done.
I beg to differ.
Most of us can spot procedures a few hundred fathoms away. It’s not so much the procedure itself, but rather the age of the recipient. It’s not natural for a 50, 60, 70-year old woman or man, celebrity or not, to have no life wrinkles, no laugh lines, no frown lines, no crow’s feet (the crow is known as a intelligent bird, by the way, having the ability to recognize one individual human being from another by facial features alone), no character markings, no “squishy skin” as my grandkids call it, and still have wildly perky breasts & butt.
I contend that the GOOD AESTHETIC OUTCOMES on aged celebrities are fish tales just the same.
We all know. We all know that with age, life and experiences, our faces, bodies and skin lose elasticity (collagen, elastin, biochemical processes and all that stuff).
We all know that when we look at procedured celebrities or regular old crows, we say one of two things:
1. That’s some good plastic surgery; or
2. That’s some bad plastic surgery
I contend that we all know. Please, please, guest plastic surgeon on the Today Show… please don’t tell me, with a straight face, that with a good natural aesthetic outcome, we have no idea which aged celebrities partake. Fish tales, I say.
Elective plastic surgery is OK, of course. Plastic Surgery is a multi-billion dollar industry and it serves its purpose for those who practice it and those who want it.
Personally, I don’t want it. I don’t mind looking like a Grandma. I do have life wrinkles, laugh lines, frown lines, character markings, “squishy skin” as my grandkids point out on me, and wildly unperky breasts and butt.
I have crow’s feet… loving the similarity with the crow, known as an incredibly intelligent bird. And I love that I am recognizable by my facial features alone from all other individual human beings.
I love looking like my own mother and grandmothers, whom I adore in real life and in memory.
But… the “trout pout” or the Barbie Doll devotees? These just cross the fishing line into the the deepest depths of sadness. Botched faces. Botched bodies. In the name of what? Youth?
In terms of fading youth and in the spirit of Ponce de Leon, I certainly could use some work on my face and body, BUTT don’t touch me with that needle or scalpel. I’ll let my Fountain of Youth come from inside, where my mind, my heart, my soul, my accomplishments, my memories… and my dreams and my goals still swim so freely and beautifully.
My collagen and elastin may be fading fast, but my mind is where the greatest fish tales of my life still live. There’s no scale large enough to measure the youthfulness of my mind!