Having a Life / Learning to be happy / Staying Healthy / Uncategorized

My Anti-Plastic Movement

The other day I was in the grocery store in Lehi (which I will now term Barbieville) and saw this woman that disturbed me for days. She was pretty, blonde, and wore the tightest jean shorts you’ll ever see with fake bling on the butt. This woman was at least in her mid 40’s, and she was wearing jean shorts with bling on the butt. My eyes traveled up to the side of her face but I only got so far as her chest. She was wearing what can only be described as a Hannah Montana shirt (but I’m sure it was something far worse) that probably fit her 13 year old. Except this mom did not have a 13 year old chest. Her shirt was stretched to the max over her huge plastic-enhanced rack.

It got me to thinking – why are we all in such a race to look like teeny boppers? Why can’t we dress our age? Then again, I did wear short pig tails in my hair this week when I went camping . .  . but really, there is nothing else to do with hair this short. But anyway, why can’t we let ourselves age? And why are we all so disatisfied with ourselves?

I think plastic surgery is nasty. Disgusting, gross, nasty. I hope you’re not offended by my frankness, but c’est vrais. Plastic, lipo, botox, lifts, and fillers really freak me out. Like I have nightmares after watching Mary Murphy on So You Think You Can Dance. I think skin should move when you smile. Foreheads should crease when you’re surprised. And not everybody should look like a Barbie doll. I don’t understand why small boobs are not ok. I have had both – being pregnant and then after breast-feeding I have experienced the whole gamut of bra sizes. Why is everyon in such a rush to change the way they are?  Sure, we can all go out and blame the media. The media made me do it. But is it really their fault? Or do they just promote what we’re already obsessed with ourselves.


Several years ago I worked at the cutest, chicest restaurant ever in Bronxville, NY call Underhills Crossing. Bronxville is a really rich, beautiful village and I loved almost everything about it. But I got really good and noticing and identifying plastic surgery there – nearly every guest had had something done. Lips, cheeks, eyes, nose. Sometimes it was subtle, sometimes glaring. But it bothers me so much I can hardly do it justic. Why are people messing with themselves!?

Having said that, I am sure there are so many people who can give for instances where plastic surgery saved their self-esteem or was really necessary. And I’m grateful for plastic surgeons who sewed my husband’s face back on after his car crash 6 years ago. But for cosmetic purposes – the act of changing your face or your body really bothers me.

So I’m being vocal about it. Hopefully this won’t come back to bite me like when I ripped on Wal-Mart and then found myself shopping there a couple years later. I think we should take pride in our bodies the way God made them. I think we can make improvements through eating healthy and exercising (something I really need to start up again), instead of through a knife and a syringe. And I think we need to stop looking at our bodies with such a critical eye. Happiness comes from within – not from an injection.


7 thoughts on “My Anti-Plastic Movement

  1. plastic surgery makes me sad. It shows how shallow and superficial our culture is.
    I have been surprised how popular it is here in Utah. You think we would want to set a better example for our daughters?

  2. to be honest, I’m a fence-sitter on this one. If you’d ever seen me shirtless you’d understand why. After everything women go through to perpetuate the race I think we deserve a break. Then again, if image didn’t matter we wouldn’t need the break. Except that when you’ve once looked a certain way, and now you don’t anymore… that’s hard to give up. And if everyone were equal on this – if everyone’s boobs sagged, everyone’s butts widened, tummies pooched, chins doubled, etc. But they don’t. And sometimes the unfairness of it all is just a little too hard to take. Of course, if you don’t have the money then I guess that could be considered unfair, too. My solution? I stay away from Barbievilles.

  3. Some forms of “plastic enhancement” do go to far in my mind. But some augmentations and tweaks are, to me, the same thing as a cut and color or hiring a personal trainer. You’re paying for a change to your physical appearance in order to look more comely. That perceived improvement leads to anything from emotional stability/security to a little hop in your step knowing you’re looking pretty cute. And I make the comparison to getting your hair done or getting a personal trainer to having minor cosmetic surgery not to bring down the value of a haircut or trainer, but to improve upon the negative stigma some forms of harmless plastic surgery have.

    You can argue a personal trainer is more of a health issue than physical appearance, but come on – that’s not why you’re doing it. That’s the reason we use to justify spending the money, but if we’re all honest we pay for a PT to feel better by looking better.

    I’m leaning towards agreeing more with Jeanette more on this one, honey – but I’m just a guy who’s had a somewhat flat chest his whole life, so what do I know?

  4. I love my plastic surgeon. Sure, I fall on the side of needing plastic surgery for a breast reduction to relieve back and shoulder pain but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t also have the effect of making me feel better about myself. And since I had my surgery, I don’t mind at all when a friend chooses to get a boob job or even a tummy tuck. I think, you know, it’s helping them feel better about themselves. Sure, it’s pretty sad when it’s taken to the extreme but I still can’t judge since I’ve had plastic surgery myself.

  5. My sister had a little debate about this – actually the topic was mainly just on boob jobs since her husband believes there is a disproportionate amount of woman in Utah than any other place who have boob jobs – on her blog, and I think her friend said something very interesting and appropriate so I’m taking the liberty to quote it here (I hope she doesn’t mind since both people’s blogs are private):

    “I guess I wonder why we have to look like we’ve never had kids, I mean obviously we have them and it was our choice to have them (I hope). Why are they so great as long as you don’t have to see the battered old hag who popped them out? Heaven forbid we have to look at HER.

    It’s sad that we all grow-up with this paradox – you should have/want children, but you should never look like you’ve had children. Yet, I totally would (and have) spend my money on an oil to supposedly make my stretch marks disappear. I do plunk down a good chunk of money for my yoga membership to get things at least partially “lifted” again (I do go for other reasons as well.)

    It’s just a matter of deciding for yourself what is “going too far” and I feel like (and I tried to illustrate this with the “tattoo scenario”) that permanently altering your chest, by having saline surgically implanted is, in my opinion, going too far. We are, in essence, mutilating ourselves for the sake of vanity. We haven’t come any farther as a sex, than the women centuries ago that had their ribs broken so they could fit into their murderous corsets, and that makes me sad, mostly for Bronwyn, because we should have brought our daughters farther than this.

    I would love to think that, like Amanda said, what a woman decides to do to her own body is her choice and everyone else should just get out of the way, but unfortunately in this case, it’s not just about her. Her decision, in a round-about sort-of way, affects all women, just like a woman’s decision to be a porn star doesn’t just affect her. She is contributing to a multi-billion dollar porn industry that’s so pervasive it has ruined families. A woman with a boob job, at the very least, teaches her daughters something about how they should perceive their bodies. Okay, before I burn my bra, let me move on…

    The other thing that really gets me about boob jobs (and I think this is the most damning) is that, more than any other form of plastic surgery, they are about sex and achieving a sexual ideal. Why does our husband have (or get) to have sex with one of the chicks from Gossip Girl? We have sex with him with his unsightly hair, flabby pecs, pot belly, etc. Why do we want or need other men to look at us like they’re just dying for us to flash them? As married women, we all know that sex, in reality, isn’t a bunch of perky breasts and tight butts rolling around on satin sheets to a John Legend song. It’s awkward, messy, even comical, but it’s yours as a couple, and that should be what’s great about it. That’s the reality of it. It’s nothing anyone would want to watch on TV, but so what? Perhaps you go through periods where you fantasize a bit more, but you’d never expect your husband to have surgery to make your fantasies real. By the time Bronwyn’s my age there could very well be a huge population of men out there that have no idea what a real set of boobs feels like- scary!

    Yes, this is my personal line to draw, and while I know it’s not PC to put my standard onto others, I can’t help it. I feel like this is bigger than us.”

  6. If it weren’t for my double chin, I’d be driving your bus at full throttle.

    Seriously, though, I don’t want to be the pot calling the kettle black in ten or so years. Right now I’m perfectly, err, umm, well, let’s say contentedly in synch with my “outer banks.” But I reserve the right to change that opinion on a dime . . . assuming I have the $$ and intestinal fortitude to do so.

    Hopefully one silver lining to this sh-tty economy will be a shift in emphasis from looks to frugality and realness. If that happens, I look forward to being one of the top beneficiaries.

    As for botox? To that I will say never. There are enough weird things out there that are jujuing our cells. I see no need to introduce yet another foreign substance into my body. Then again, it’s bad juju to say NEVER. Sigh.

  7. The problem is that most people get these procedures not out of a desire to feel more at home in their bodies but to satisfy some outward notion of beauty.
    Because the person believes others will view her differently, she has the procedure; however, the desired result is almost never as anticipated. This leaves the girls scarred and searching for the next way to make others happy. It will never work.

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