Friday, January 29, 2010
The question? What work are we having done? Or, more specifically, what exactly am I going to do about this nearly fifty-year-old face of mine?
I know, I know. I'm not very organized. I'm supposed to have a plan - a highly detailed plan. For my upcoming birthday I should be giving myself the gift of an eye lift. I should be on a schedule of botox and fillers by now. This is serious business - the avoidance of aging - and a full-time job. I need to get with the program.
Ever since these conversations started, and with five older sisters they started a long time ago, it's been like I live on a different planet. I just don't get it. I have to understand an underlying philosophy to get a concept. I have to want to look like a younger version of myself to want to have work done, right? So, I'd have to have had a heydey when I was younger, when I looked so great, when my looks were peaking and men were chasing me in the street.
The problem is I never had a heydey. I can't look at any point in my life earlier than my forties and say, That's how I want to look forever because first I had a congenital problem with my jaw that required major jaw surgery at twenty-nine, and then I struggled with my weight till I was forty. Funny chin plus 211 pounds does not equal heydey. It equals tent-like dresses and comparisons to Jay Leno.
I also have to understand a few other things before pursuing treatment. As mortal creatures don't we all want to get old? Like we don't want to die young, right? Is there really any chance in the world of me being eighty one day and not looking it?
I have this horrible fear of walking around with hair that looks like a twenty-year-old's when I'm sixty, or ripped up jeans when I'm seventy. At fifty, of course, I have to goodbye to my youth, but I don't have to say goodbye to beauty or looking good (or hair dye). Maybe I'm just going to look really, really good - for a fifty-year-old.
So what am I going to do about this fifty-year-old face of mine? Nothing. I like it.
Did you have a "heydey" when you were younger or are you, like me, an extremely late bloomer? Have you encountered "plastic surgery conversations" and do they make you feel uncomfortable or empowered?
(Thanks to Big Little Wolf and her intriguing post on Heidi Montag's surgeries for sparking this.)