Plastic surgery has been a long-standing obsession of mine. Why? I dunno, probably because I was raised in Los Angeles and also because I am a flaming gay man trapped inside a woman's body (many people say this, but in my case it's actually true). It is so fascinating. I can't get enough of it; I could look at plastic surgery images all day. I've spent countless hours googling "(insert celebrity name here) plastic surgery" and hopping from pop-up laden site to site saying "No, not her!? She always seemed like such an actress of integrity." No matter. Those surreptitiously tweaked, "I only do injectables" types are the light weights, and my primary concern is with the serious, no bullshit, plastic surgeon on speed-dial, even my labia has an implant types. They are fantastic.
Here's my thing though. The very liberal, anthropology-touting, NPR-listening crowd that I would call my clan, regularly express our disapproval for the choices plastic-surgery enthusiast make. However, the same crowd is very quick to laud the tattooed man as a walking body of art, glorify the lip plates of Ethiopian women and Brazilian men, and even express a kinky nostalgia for the corset. Why is it more OK to make yourself look like a demon than it is for your breasts to be an obvious choice addition to your anatomy?
When my obsession with plastic-surgery was newly budding, I was baffled. But that doesn't look real at all!? Shut the fuck up. It doesn't need to. It is an exaggeration of certain cultural beauty ideals. America likes a thin girl with big boobs, a full pout and nay a wrinkle nor sag to blemish her full, child-like face. All of that might seem silly on a 60 year old woman, but so might a lip plate. It might not look very natural, but neither does a lip plate. It looks kinda funny when they do everyday things like drink water, but have you ever watched a woman with a lip plate drink water!? Furthermore, plastic surgery can have risky and potentially fatal complications and you can't predict how it will age, just like Mayan head slanting, or lip-plates. So please, let these women wear their animal skins and shiniest rocks, and allow them to poke, prod, nip and tuck, so that they might continue the ancient tradition of cultural dysmorphia and so that I might continue to enjoy these shiny, brightly colored plastic-silk flowers of Beverly Hills.
And, forgive me for indulging in stereotypes, but from everything I have heard about those who take their plastic surgery to a pseudo-spiritual level, they are usually very sweet people. I can't name names, but I don't doubt it.
Agree? Disagree? Like my picture? Let me know what you think!!!!!!!