As much as I try to maintain the image of being above it all, I was delayed from starting this post for at least 10 minutes while checking out the Blogger pick of the day, awfulplasticsurgery.com. It's hypnotic. I've spent enough time in NYC to start being able to pick out who's had too much facial augmentation --- particularly those wierd eyes and scary sharp cheekbones with the leetle skinny Mikey Jackson nose... I guess I'm developing a sense like Gaydar, maybe you could call it Plastdar? All those people start looking as if they're related, like Prisilla Presley is Joan River's sister...Haven't noticed so much over collagened lips in the east, maybe that's more of a west coast/LA thing.
Ok, try to get out of the totally shallow end of the pool, but then so much of this blog is about body image. And then there is my own not-terribly-serious consideration of abdominal plastic surgery to take up the slack left from my weight loss. As I warned you, having my hysterectomy has brought my focus so strongly back to my tum, but I've been leery to get into discussions of it because, well, it's a very personal area. And I haven't got a lot of time today, I'm hopefully off to an OA retreat for the weekend as soon as Fuzz can pick me up.
But it's so interesting to me! Guess this is literally navel gazing. I'm still pretty swollen in the lower abdomen, making an area I've been always too aware of more prominent. One of the last things to go is the swelling after the operation. After 3 weeks of flannel pj pants, I tried on a pair of my jeans, not my smallest ones, this morning and they fit, but they looked pretty strange over the bulge. And then I realized that they also were uncomfortable. So back into the pj's and I have some nice loose palazzo pants for the weekend.
But I've got this skin, you see. It makes a flap (feels like a big one right now) at the bottom of my abdomen. Some people who lose a lot of weight have such a big one it causes problems with walking or chafes, so they have actual reason to have it surgically altered. I don't have those problems so it would be strictly vanity, unless, and this is unlikely, it interferes with the healing of the incision from my recent operation. Besides, if I did change that bit, then wouldn't I be tempted to take on other formerly fat but now deflated, saggy bits of my body? At my age, that could be unending, and then, voila, Joan Rivers! On my better days, I try to view the sags as battle scars from my war with a life threatening disease, which is entirely true. But oh God, it's not always easy to keep my head up high with those young perky 20 somethings in the change room at the gym!
Right now I just hope the swelling goes down and I get back into my pants comfortably some day. Patience. Crap.
In another surreal turn of events, my 68 year old mother-in-law has developed a passion for digital photography to go along with the computer we bought her a few years back. That she went from luddite to websurfer at her age is cool, but now she has learned how to airbrush her photos. Last month she gave me a picture of our 16 year old nephew, and then pointed out how she airbrushed out some of his blemishes, and more strangely, his fledgling teenager moustache, of which she disproves. Now his upper lip is looking like a baby's bottom. Et tu, Maxine!!!
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