Kim vs. Gravity
As I’ve talked about (endlessly) I’ll be getting married in less than a year. Now, there’s a lot of planning that goes into an event like this, obviously, but there’s one thing you can’t plan on, you can count on. Gravity.
Gravity and I go way back. We had a fairly uneventful relationship at first — my boobs pointed more or less forward, and my neck started up around my ears, where it belonged. But somewhere over the last couple of years, gravity has been acting like I poached its boyfriend, stole its good parking spot, forgot to pick it up at the airport, and spat in its low-fat chicken Caesar wrap.
I ignored gravity’s snotty behavior for as long as I could. I figured out how to hold my head to stretch everything out. I replaced all the lightbulbs in the house with 40 watters — I tried to make it work. But gravity was about to strike the blow that would change our relationship forever. I looked in the mirror one day not long ago, and I had jowls. Oh, they weren’t deputy dog, Winston Churchill style flappers, but they were the definitely literal low point of my face. Was I doomed to a wedding day where I’d have to toss a jowl over each shoulder as I marched down the aisle?
That’s how gravity became my arch mortal enemy.
Now, my fiancé, the prince, is either nearsighted or really, really kind, because he doesn’t see it. When I told him I was going to see a cosmetic surgeon, he did not react with the kind of glee my female friends showed. He was all worried that I’d win up hideously deformed…what a killjoy. My girlfriends, on the other hand, all want to tell me about their botox. Because botulism is the new black! Even so, everyone wants to look like the end results, but they’ll only talk about it with lowered voices. Because botox is the new guilt?
So I got a copy of a book called Face Value. Even though I generally stick to fiction, I can happily recommend this book, which cuts through a lot of the nonsense that surrounds the subject. (It’s your God-given right! It’s evil and dangerous!) The author, Dr. Hema Sundaram, comes at this as a woman who has given some serious thought to what it means when you show your face to the world, and talks a lot about the perception that cosmetic surgery is just one more thing women have learned to be ashamed of. She posits that de-jowling oneself is not stumbling down an anti-feminist path. It doesn’t make you shallow and silly to take advantage of what’s out there. Should beauty be another arrow in the modern woman’s quiver? Or should she (I) face the future (see what I did there?) and let gravity have at me? While I’m at it, maybe I should also chuck my underwire bra, my hair conditioner (and color, while we’re at it), my moisturizer, my whitening toothpaste and my special ‘made for a woman’s legs’ razor. Or you can try to pry all that stuff out of my cold, dead hand.
So I went to see Dr. Sundaram at her office in Maryland. Once I got over being hypnotized by her lovely British accent, I was able to think about the number of options available. Obviously, I don’t want to change the way I look. I just want to escape the clutches of my old nemesis. So I have some thinking to do and some decisions to make. I hope you’ll check back now and then to hear about my progress in my cage match against Gravity.
Read Part Two: Breakfast: The Most Important Part of Your Cosmetic Surgery Day!
Read Part Three: Kim the Amazing Duck-Faced Girl
Read Part Four: Intermission/A Radio Drama
Read Part Five: Dangerous Apples
Read Part Six: Aspirin, or I take one for the team
Read Part Seven: Gin Blossoms Are Not a Pretty Flower!
Read Part Eight: Post-wedding wrap up