A number of us Babble Voices blogger types have been talking about plastic surgery over the past week — our feelings about getting it, or not getting it, or other people getting it, or dogs getting it. (We all agree: dogs should not get plastic surgery! Unless it’s those really wrinkly dogs with the big folds of skin all over their bodies. I mean, come on.)*
And the thing is, I’m really torn about this issue. I kind of wish it were a simpler time when NOBODY got botox or nose jobs or facelifts or tummy tucks or other procedures for purely cosmetic purposes (I don’t include post-trauma plastic surgery), so we were all on an level playing field. You know?
We’d all be forced to work with low-tech, affordable tools like makeup and hair dye and girdles and the like to attempt to beautify ourselves, and we’d all get saggy and baggy together, and it wouldn’t be a big deal. And, yes, maybe some of us would go through life hating our crooked teeth or large noses or the circles under our eyes or the things that childbirth did to our midsections. But the idea of “fixing” it wouldn’t even be on the table.
Accordingly, we wouldn’t be bombarded by images of movie stars and other celebrities looking impossibly — imPOSSibly – smooth and lifted for their age. Or even witness “regular” people around us looking suddenly more nipped and tucked, while the rest of us — the un-tampered with — continue to let nature have its way.
In this sort of utopia, the idea of getting a certain “fix” that I consider having at some point down the road wouldn’t even enter my consciousness.