Even though I could certainly use it, I honestly don’t think I’ll ever have any serous plastic surgery done.
It’s not that I’m morally opposed to plastic surgery, or don’t understand wanting to reduce the signs of aging. We live in a society that values youth, and those of us who are in our late fifties (or sixties and seventies) are living much more active lives than our parents and grandparents did at that age. So it only makes sense that we would like to look as young as we feel, which means that a quick “nip and tuck” starts looking very attractive. Even someone someone like me, who is very nervous of medical procedures and used to faint at the mere sight of blood, can feel tempted to head to the nearest plastic surgeon’s office and ask for “the works.”
But the truth is, even the best of plastic surgery would be wasted on me. And I know this because I have had a couple of minor procedures done (for health reasons) in the past couple of years, and I’ve already managed to ruin them.
For years I suffered from sagging eyelids, which combined with my chronic dry-eye, meant that I almost always had a sore on the outer corner of my eye where the tears would get trapped in the fold of skin. I tried wiping the area regularly with tissues and even applying ointments, but nothing helped. So I finally went to a doctor, who told me the best results would come from making an incision in the top of my eye lid and cutting away the excess skin. As if. I quickly asked for other options, and he said I could also do a simple eyebrow lift. I figured I could handle that, and so I had it done.
And you know what I did last night? While trying to pick up the TV remote in the dark, I managed to smack my head right into the corner of my night stand, just above the eye. So now I have a hugely swollen eye socket and a purple eyelid, and, you guessed it, tears caught in the fold of the eyelid. All that work undone in one moment of klutziness, and my life is nothing if not one long string of klutzy moments.
I have had problems with the veins in my legs for the past fifteen years or so, which finally morphed into full-blown varicose veins. Which I had treated, repeatedly and somewhat painfully, armed with the knowledge that when I was done, I would finally have legs that didn’t look some kid had colored on them with red and purple markers. After the initial spider vein treatments, my legs did look vein free….for a few weeks. But it wasn’t long before I began bumping into things (steps, the open dishwasher door, whatever) which would cause a bruise, which would turn into yet another cluster of spider veins. I’m thinking I’ll probably get to enjoy the results of my recent varicose vein treatment for a little bit longer, like say, maybe six months.
So you see why I remain unimpressed by the best that plastic surgery has to offer. But if the medical field ever comes up with a procedure to cure klutziness, I’d sign up for that so fast……