Hey y’all:
How’s summer going for you?
If you’re in the southeast United States you’re feeling mother nature’s heat and humidity, with no mercy.
Phew, Hotlanta…
Whether you’re in Hotlanta or not, are you feeling heat in the aging department?
Lately, I'm feeling both kinds of heat: environmental and aging.
Twenty-four, seven a/c takes care of one problem but not so much the other one.
Even if you’re young and [a hottie] all year-round, have you ever contemplated plastic surgery to take heat off personal-pride regarding this or that?
Chances are, we all know family members and/or friends who have opted in to plastic surgery to change something about their appearance.
I know a few. All women.
These women truly looked beautiful, in my opinion, prior to surgery. They were on the road to aging gracefully. But something about their appearance caused them angst and they gave in to stitches and snips.
I was introduced to plastic surgery at ten-years-old. Not me personally, but by a close family friend who opted in.
Needless to say, processing elective plastic surgery at 10-years-old is chin-scratching.
A seed of: should-I-change-the-way-God-made-me (because either I, or society, think there is a "better" way to look) was planted?
I’m over 60-years-old and signs of aging are becoming easier to see and harder to hide:
Sagging
Sinking
Wrinkles
(And did you know that cartilage in nose and ears continues to grow and gravity enhances that unfortunateness)
I visited a plastic surgeon in Atlanta last week to learn what he had to offer regarding my 61-year-old face.
I expected to hear his opinion and expertise about different things he would recommend and I assumed I’d look at examples and diagrams.
What I didn’t expect was having to hold a Romper Room style hand-mirror 6-inches from my face throughout the entire evaluation. (If you’re my age, do you remember Romper Room? The mirror? And Miss Nancy (or whatever her name was)?
Ugh. I wished to be Miss Nancy on appointment day because I wanted to see other people in that darn mirror, not myself. (Remember she would look in the mirror and see other children?)
My hand kept floating down to my lap and the surgeon would lift it right back up so that I could see what I didn’t want to see. It’s not that I don’t like my reflection. What I didn’t enjoy was the surgeon lifting my skin here and there to superimpose possibilities. I could envision outcomes if he’d just used a darn pencil and paper.
The doctor had all sorts of ideas for getting to work on me right away. It made me wonder if business was slow?
I hoped and prayed that was the case.
Driving home, I thought long and hard about permanent changes people I knew had made. Some have said the surgery was worth it and others said not so miuch.
One friend (late 70s) who made a living as a result of her beautiful face, says she would "never have plastic surgery." She says that she enjoys life more as she ages and emphasis and attention on her features wanes.
Go figure.
After the appointment, I came up with these questions to help me decide whether or not to have a procedure:
Who is beautiful to me and why?
Why is aging unattractive -- is it more about attention-seeking?
Would I have loved and appreciated my grandmothers more if they looked less gramma-ish?
Answers to these questions helped me decide to hang in there as the circle of life and natural aging progresses:
My family and friends are beautiful in different ways, internally and externally. For me, internal beauty trumps external.
In my opinion, aging is unattractive by media standards and media (social), because it’s driven by false pretenses, demands false images, attention-seekers.
Grandmas looking like grandmas is the truth. I love truth.
The doctor I visited was wonderful, competent and highly reviewed. Obviously, this is nothing against him! I’m happy to share his name if you’d like it. Email me: triangleparkatl@gmail.com.
This aging grandma is loving life with this gorgeous, little guy. (Pinch the pic and you can see a lot of wrinkles. Or not.)
Thank you for reading!
Love, Shelley