Plastic Surgery Gift Certificates

I got an email the other day from a plastic surgery practice reminding me that if I’m ever unsure what to get “that special someone for their birthday, anniversary, or Valentine’s Day” I should give them the gift of beauty – a gift certificate for “a wide range of procedures, from non-surgical to surgical” that the gift card amount could be applied toward. 

At first, I thought, ooof, how could you give that to someone without them taking it as an insult? Oh man, I can just see THAT anniversary celebration:

My husband:

Me:

Does he think I “need work”?

If so, a $25 gift certificate doesn’t even come close to how expensive this stuff is … (but phew, I did a really good job of hiding that BOTOX receipt).

But if he gives me a really big gift certificate, does that mean he thinks I look like a Picasso painting and need an appointment immediately?

Yikes. This gift is just a disaster waiting to happen!

But wait. Let me be honest. 

While I totally appreciate and applaud women and men who are against doing a little “sumpin sumpin” every now and then, I’m not one of them.

I readily admit that while my skin may look pretty clear, it’s not that way naturally. Instead it’s the result of a tried and true skincare routine that my dermatologist recommended about 35 years ago (and like Queen E, I’ve been faithful to that routine).

And this hair? Guess what? I’m 64 years old … my hair isn’t really this color (just take a look at the two-toned action I have going on during the pandemic). Nope, it’s Melanie’s artistry and experience.

And although you may think that I have naturally smoky eyelids, ha! Fooled you again! That’s makeup! And not just makeup, but hours watching Dominique Sachse’s “Makeup Facelift” (and all her other videos too. She’s amazing!).

Yep, skincare, dyed hair, and makeup. So, are BOTOX, or fillers, or even, GASP, surgery such a big deal?  Well, I don’t think so. 

One thing I’ve learned during this fun time we’re all calling “the Coronavirus Pandemic” but I prefer to call “The Year I Got My Shit Together” is that I’m the same person with my two-toned hair and flesh-colored eyelids that I am when I dye my hair and wear makeup. I’m totally comfortable either way. And the people I’ve come in contact with haven’t told me to return that painting to the museum or stopped letting me shop at their grocery store.

BUT …

I also LIKE knowing that a little moisturizer at night can keep my skin looking healthy. I LIKE watching Dominique’s videos and trying out her techniques. I LIKE going to Melanie and blabbing about what we’ve been doing lately, new television shows, and how I still want to look like Chrissie Hynde.

And I like knowing that if those little horizontal lines on my forehead are bugging me, I know just where to go to get rid of them. And I’m fine with that.

Because the BIGGEST thing that has been reinforced during “TYIGMST” is this: when a virus can cause you a year-long isolation, when lives are lost from disease and hatred, when (you can fill in this blank – there are lots of examples) … then REALLY???? Who gives a damn whether someone has plastic surgery or not, or chooses to have gray hair, or isn’t a size 4, or IS a size 4???

So whether it’s a gift certificate for plastic surgery or a gift certificate to The Cheesecake Factory, the important takeaway here is that you are someone’s “special someone” … and these days, that’s really all that counts.

No Matter How Bored You Are … DON’T CUT YOUR BANGS!

When I was three years old, I was so excited because I was going to be a flower girl at my aunt’s fancy wedding in Chicago. I had the most beautiful dress, the fanciest shoes, embroidered lacy white bobby socks, … and access to scissors.

So of course, right before the wedding I cut my bangs (and as much hair on my crown as I could reach) right down to the scalp.

I think that was the first time I exercised my penchant for personal hair styling – one that has continued throughout my 64 years, much to the dismay of the PROFESSIONAL stylists who are (un)lucky enough to call me their client.

What have I done to deserve the title “Most Challenging Person Who Has EVER Sat In My Chair”? Well, over the years …

  • I’ve straightened my hair (“Hi Melanie, can you suggest anything for these burns on my scalp?”)
  • I’ve dyed my hair colors that were somehow off the official color spectrum (“Hi, Melanie, can you fix this sort-of-purpley-orange hair?”)
  • I’ve “streaked” my hair (“Hi Melanie, can you do anything about the green color in my hair?”)
  • I’ve cut my hair into a shag (“Hi Melanie, can you even out my layers?”)
  • I’ve, of course, cut my bangs (“Hi Melanie, can you make my hair grow?”)

I’ve even had the nerve to deny doing ANYTHING AT ALL to my hair – while sitting right in front of her all uneven and smelling of formaldehyde.

As you can probably imagine, “Melanie” is the most patient person in the world!! She has not only put up with my scary mistakes, she has actually made me look normal despite whatever challenges I’ve thrown her way. And as time has gone by (and because Melanie assured me she’d see me ANYTIME I wanted to do something so I REALLY didn’t need to do it myself!!!!!) I stopped styling/ruining my own hair and have relied solely on her to keep me looking good (keep in mind what she has to work with).

BUT in March the pandemic hit.

… I think you know where this is going …

FOR NINE MONTHS I HAVE NOT been able to see Melanie. And yep, for some reason, EVEN THOUGH I HAVE NO SOCIAL LIFE, ONLY USE ZOOM ON AUDIO, and barely leave the house at all, I’ve felt compelled to “do” my hair. With lots of time on my hands and access to scissors and an entire array of hair products online, I’ve reawakened my inner stylist. (I even tried to buy professional strength keratin online, but was thwarted by the requirement to enter my professional license number … and YES, I totally considered making one up!)

Let’s just say there’s a reason for the pink wig!

So Melanie – get ready. Because as soon as I get that vaccination, I am heading your way!

Just Step Right up on the Scale …

“Okay, just step right up here onto the scale, and let’s get your weight real quick, sweetie.”

No matter how gently those words are uttered, you might as well be saying, “okay, let’s just cram this knife right into your neck real quick, sweetie, and see how fast your blood flows.”

I hate getting weighed at the doctor. Unless I walk in there and specifically ask, “would you mind finding out how much I weigh, because I don’t have a scale, a mirror, 4,000 apps on my phone, or clothes with waistbands anymore, so I just can’t tell on my own,” then PLEASE don’t weigh me. 

Unfortunately, my health care practitioners think this is my first (and only) concern when I visit them. My left arm might be hanging off from a chainsaw injury or I may have passed out in the elevator from a fever, but darn if that scale isn’t going to be my first stop.

I remember the last time I went in for my physical. It was a freezing day in December, let’s say around 4 degrees. As you might expect, I happened to be wearing a tank top … under a sweater, scarf, leggings, pants, socks, shoes, a coat, sunglasses, REALLY heavy earrings, and my wedding band. And I had a surprisingly hefty rubber band in my hair. 

“Okay, just step right up here onto the scale, and let’s get your weight real quick, sweetie” my otherwise very understanding and sympathetic nurse requested. 

“Um, do you want me to take off my coat? Or, maybe everything I have on before I do that? I don’t mind being completely naked in this hallway as long as it will shave an ounce or two off the results” I said, horrified.

“Oh no,” she replied, “that’s fine. We WANT to see just how much you can possibly weigh. According to medical research, if we put you on the scale in the dead of winter and make you look right at the numbers, we can effectively humiliate you enough that you’ll spend the rest of the day beating yourself up, buying diet books on Amazon, and scouring the Internet for weight loss plans. It’s a deal we have with therapists, publishers, and software developers.”

And don’t even think about losing weight when you’re a woman over 55. Instead, you’ll find out that once you get to “that certain age,” it’s nearly impossible to lose weight and keep the weight off. I’ve tried everything, but the real joke was the “Intermittent Fasting” trend that has become so popular.

I tried …

  • the 5:2 diet involves eating normally 5 days of the week while restricting your calorie intake to 500–600 for 2 days of the week,
  • the 16/8 method (fasting every day for 14–16 hours and restricting your daily eating window to 8–10 hours),
  • “Eat Stop Eat” (24-hour fast once or twice per week),
  • alternate-day fasting (you fast every other day),
  • and The Warrior Diet (eating small amounts of raw fruits and vegetables during the day and eating one huge meal at night)

I gained seven pounds.

Now I’m trying the 5:5 intermittent dieting plan.

I eat anything I want for five minutes, then look for something else to eat for five minutes, then eat that for five minutes, etc.

And next time, I’m scheduling my physical for a hot summer day.