“You look tired means you look old.
And you look rested means you’ve had collagen.”
– Nathan Lane to Robin Williams in The Birdcage
Someone close to me called recently to let me in on a secret – she is going to have plastic surgery. Now, it’s a minor procedure – we’re not talking boob job – but she begged me not to tell ANYONE. Of course I agreed, but it made me wonder why she was so adamant. Did she think others would criticize her for being vain? Was she afraid the younger folk would say, “You’re old, so why bother?”
Which made me examine the dichotomy that exists in our society. We’re all supposed to be 5’10” blondes, tan (somehow without setting foot in the sun), tight-bodied, an unrealistic 118 lbs. with flawless skin and not a sag or wrinkle anywhere, no matter what your age. BUT if you choose to sneak in a little nip tuck to help you achieve that level of perfection, you’re scorned and marked with a scarlet letter. So others choose to ignore this unachievable level of perfection and let their hair go gray, allow gravity to take over and celebrate their changing bodies. These women are categorized as New Age kooks who obviously don’t care what they look like. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve watched the Celebrity Plastic Surgeries Gone Wrong shows on cable. Who could forget the photos of a botched Tara Reid or plastic surgery addict Jenny Lee who looks like a walking Barbie doll? We scorn them and make fun of them, but aren’t we the same people who created them? This is the same society who will scoff at Cher for having a nip tuck, but when the subject of abortion comes up will scream, “I can do what I want with my body!” I don’t get it. Maybe I’m not supposed to. I guess we can’t all be Joan Rivers who makes fun of herself for having so much work done. Will I still secretly sneer at the 40 year old blonde trainer at the gym who I know has had breast implants and regular Botox but looks amazing? Probably. But I hate her because we all want to be her. When will it be okay to just be our own imperfect selves? Sadly, not in my lifetime.