Vanity, Thy Name Is Woman

It started innocently enough years ago as a young girl obsessed with the image of perfection plastered on every single magazine cover in the 1980's. The era of the SUPER MODEL. "I hate these saddle bags" I'd say to myself, scrutinizing those areas of my body as if they were the only thing visible to the naked eye. Figures I'd get my mother's thighs and my father's nose. My parents were right, life wasn't fair. Were my imperfections REALLY that bad? Of course not. But to an adolescent female having Christie Brinkley and Paulina Porizkova for roll models, an "imperfection" is the equivalency of losing your right hand.

Fast forward to my mid 20's with saddle bags the size of Texas. OK I'm exaggerating on the Texas part. I was a size 4 but to a woman, thighs feel that way sometimes no matter how thin she is or how much she weighs. Don't get me wrong, this story in no way should imply that I'm insecure about my body or that I have Michael Jackson Syndrome, let's just call it VANITY and leave it at that.

So I'm in my dermatologist's office one sunny day listening to the doctor go on and on about how I need to wear sunscreen blah, blah, blah, when we get on the subject of him "learning" to perform Tumescent Liposuction. Well NOW we're talking! "How does a dermatologist learn that?" I asked, masking my first instinct of horror. I mean there IS a big difference between removing moles and removing fat even if you are a mohs surgeon, right? He proceeded to explain that any M.D. can do it if they have enough "procedures" under their knife so to speak. I said "Great! How much more practice do you need?" Look, I know what you're thinking... just keep reading.

Fast forward again. $800 and a week later, I'm lying on an O.R. table in an out patient surgical office in La Jolla, CA (that's supposed to be a good thing) and I ask: "Where's the Anesthesiologist?" Yup. You guessed it, that wasn't part of the deal. So, I'll spare you the gory details but let's just say that half way through it all I asked for more pain meds. When I got some attitude from this well-known-dermatologist, I told him that I could feel everything!! "What do you mean?" came a curt response, "What is it that you feel?" he asks in a condescending tone. "I feel you sticking a cannula in and out of my leg! Can I please have a @*#$#@* shot?!" I politely responded. At that point then, and only then, was the nurse instructed to inject more of the same opiate derived solution into my I.V. Did it help? Not at that point, we still had another leg to go and I apparently had reached my limit of narcotics for the time being. What the heck was I thinking... I KNOW, I KNOW, don't say it, I will...

"You get what you pay for". One thigh was off. They didn't match. But there was no way in you-know-where that I was letting that Doctor touch me again. And they were a little better, I guess, and I knew I was the only one who could really tell, unless I pointed it out... like that would ever happen. Later that same year I saw a segment on the local news of how one of the Doctor's (my Doctor) patients died while undergoing the same type of procedure that I had performed on me. Yes, the doctor is still "practicing" medicine now. How does that other saying go? "Sign your life away".

My journey into plastic surgery didn't end there. It was followed by Botox and Restylane injections over the years (I don't think those should count) and a Rhinoplasty which most definitely was the only thing that was needed and reminds me of what plastic surgery is actually intended for. A while back I posted a comment on plastic surgery that was rather vague. I received a few responses back , including requests for information on my own personal experiences and what to "expect". Well, I wrote this blog instead, because my own journey led me to this last procedure. A procedure that was performed by a high profile physician who even has his own TV show.

Now, rewind six months. I decided to "fix" my thighs and get rid of some pudgy-ness on my hips and tummy that had accumulated over the previous year- I just wanted to feel comfortable in my clothes again without exercising or taking out a personal loan to buy a new wardrobe. I had had a miscarriage and went through a rough patch. The bout with depression that ensued left me 20lbs heavier than I wanted to be and I soon realized that Ben&Jerry were not my friends. Lipo was a perfect solution.

I had done a lot of research this time around as I had done with my doctor who did my nose (I love him HE was great!) and decided on a physician in Newport Beach, CA (another good thing?) that had experience and who willingly showed me pictures of patients exhibiting good results. Did I mention he had a TV show? Anyway, he looked great on paper, he was even on Oprah.

Last night I heard that the mother of a famous singer had died from complications from plastic surgery. Guess who? Yes-my Doctor. The very same doctor who operated on me six months ago is allegedly responsible for her death. I had done my research this last time and nothing came up... Until now. A quick search on the Internet brought up a list of atrocities this man has committed, not including what happened to this famous singer's mother the other night. They trusted this guy too.

I'm not sure what to think right now, every channel is showing this man's face and I'm in shock. I let him operate on me and now he's on National Television connected with a death caused by complications from plastic surgery that he performed. This is very surreal for me and yet at the same time an eye opener, as well.

Though I'm pleased with the results from my nose job, I'm so-so in regard to the liposuction procedures. I honestly wouldn't undo the changes now, but diet and exercise do give the best results by far! I'm speaking from experience and if anything, I have more incentive to exercise and eat healthier now than I did before the procedures. I know, that doesn't quite make sense to me either, but that's how I feel.

I thanked God tonight that I wasn't one of those poor women who died. I most definitely won't press my luck again either. I'm beautiful. I didn't "need" anything done to begin with. So why did I? I could say that exercise didn't work on those problem areas- which is true, I couldn't breath through my nose and I snored really bad- so true, but really I just wanted to do it. I had the cash, I had the desire and it was readily available. I must sound like an addict. What I want to say is this: You can think and plan all you want, but it can't prepare you for the true reality. I think that just might actually apply to anything in life.

If anyone out there is considering plastic surgery, ask yourself this before making a final decision: Is it worth my life? I wish I had asked myself that question. If I had, I would have saved myself a lot of pain, a lot of money and I wouldn't look a whole lot different than I do right now...


Lala