The ‘mystery’ appointment next week is NOT for a nose job!!! Can’t believe how many people said that. Do NOT believe my sister, she is the one with the big nose, not me! (Ok, and me too, but still! You are not supposed to agree with her). The mystery appointment is with a plastic surgeon for the potential boob op.
Now, before you get your knickers in a knot, let me say a few things:
Firstly, I understand that some of you are very anti plastic surgery. I was surprised at how many and how vehemently, but I hear you. In fact a friend in the computer who I admire hugely and happen to think is v clever and quite sexy too, is very anti plastic surgery and told me so quite nicely (novel approach, should try it sometime) and clearly. I hear her reasons and yours too. I don’t agree with all of them, obviously (or else I wouldn’t be going for the appointment), but I hear them and acknowledge that they are your opinions, beliefs etc. I would like to tell you mine. Not because I think I owe anyone any explanation, but because we are friends and I would like to tell you my thoughts around this.
First and foremost, wanting to have my boobs done has nothing to do with being depressed. This I promise you. How do I know this? Because I never ever want to do my boobs when I am depressed. In fact, I usually make no effort towards myself at all. I feel ugly on the inside and I make myself look ugly on the outside. It is only when I am in a good space mentally that I think about wearing make up, doing my hair and think about having my boobs done. In fact, a few weeks back I told Marko I wasn’t doing it anymore because what was the point? So, it has nothing to do with being depressed. Trust me on that one.
Then, it has nothing to do with what Marko wants. He loves me (and wants me) in any way, shape or form. His love truly is blind. And determined. And consistent. And oh my word, what is wrong with once a week??? Sorry. Got a bit sidetracked there. He is however quite excited about the boob idea because he knows what it means for me. I’ll get to that in a mo’.
Now back to what seems to be the two main objections. They seem to be based around two arguments – one that says one should accept one’s body as it is / be happy with yourself / grow old gracefully. The second argument says that having a boob job is giving in to society’s warped ideals about what women’s bodies should look like etc etc.
Let me tackle the second one first. I do not, and have seldom ever, cared about what society’s expectations are. I really don’t. Society expects me to do a lot of things I don’t do because I choose to follow my own choices. This has nothing to do with what society thinks or wants or demands. I am hardly currently even close to society’s ideal about anything anyway. Will getting fuller boobs suddenly make me a slave to what this nebulous ‘society’ apparently demands? It is not like I am going to walk around naked so how will society even know or care about my boobs? No. But I will know. And that is what it is all about.
I don’t hate my boobs now, besides being ‘empty’ (which is the part I want to address), they are a good shape and form. Yes, I did have a breast reduction 20 years ago. And for twenty years they were perfectly fine but after the kids they have become a little ‘empty’. I don’t hate the physical appearance of my body at all. I am far from the ‘ideal’, but I am me. The good bits, the not so good bits, the original and the upgraded bits. I am not doing it because I have acceptance issues, or because I refuse to grow old gracefully (what the fuck does that mean anyway?). I am doing because I want to and because I think it will make me feel sexy and fun. Sexier and ‘funner’. No one will really notice, I don’t think (I am not getting enormous knockers) but I will know. Not for society, not because I hate myself or am depressed, but for me.
What about freedom of choice? What about being in a good enough place in your life to choose to change something, or not? What about deciding to take charge of one’s own fate / life / decisions / body / choice? What about not bowing down to the other end of the societal spectrum that says ‘you may not do this because then you are selling out on us / women etc’? I refuse to bow down to either end of the so called ‘Barbie’ spectrum. I’ve said to before and I am going to say it again; I don’t really care what other people think. I am doing this for me! Why is that so hard to believe?
And as for ‘what kind of message does this send to your daughter?” Well, my word! Really. It sends the message to my daughter that you are the master of your own destiny. That you have the freedom to choose to do whatever you want to do. That you should listen to yourself and your choices and not be swayed by other people’s expectations or opinions. That as long as you don’t harm others, you do whatever it takes to add a bit of happiness and fun to your life. That it is YOUR body and your choice. That nothing is a life sentence, nothing is ever ‘just because’. Ever ever.
Please note that the argument that says one should just ‘accept what God gave you’ does not feature AT ALL. I reject that most vehemently and in order not to offend anyone, I am not even going to go there. Except to say that I feel very strongly about that one.
Now, the one argument I do hear is the
whole ‘could die’ thing. However, as is with everything in life, there is a process
of balancing out risk and reward. Driving a car is risky, taking medication is
risky. Life is risky. And yes, doing any kind of surgery is risky.
The risk in this case is small enough for me to accept. Might not be for you (your choice), but it is
for me (my choice).
Having said all of this, I still don’t know whether I will go ahead with it or not. I am having the first appointment on Thursday to discuss various options. Perhaps I will go ahead with it, perhaps not. (The ‘no lifting’ rule is putting me off slightly) But whatever I decide, it will be a decision that is best for me and for my family. For no one else. Sorry if that disappoints you, it really shouldn’t. Because at the end of the day, this really isn’t about you, it isn’t about society, it isn’t about my daughter or anyone else. It is about me. And that should be a good enough reason for anyone really.