Madness

My world has been rocked, and by something I never would've imagined. One of my bosses went out on medical leave about 6 weeks ago, for surgery. Given that she didn't tell any of us what type of surgery she was having, I assumed it was probably something deeply personal such as a hysterectomy, while others in the office were speculating plastic surgery of some sort. Mind you, we're not talking about someone who is shy in any way, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt given that she was a radical feminist in the 70's, and a lesbian (until recently) to boot.

She sauntered back into work yesterday looking a good 20 lbs. lighter in the stomach. I looked at her and didn't quite know what to say. After some pressing by coworkers ("Soooo... are you ok after your, you know, surgery?"), she told us that she'd had a tummy tuck and some liposuction, and that opened the flood-gates. Whatever hesitancy she'd had to speak on the subject until then flew out the window and we were witness to a 45-minute long soliloquy on the wonder that was her plastic surgery.

The most horrifying part was when she whipped up her shirt to show us her "new" belly button. You know, because when you have a tummy tuck they pull the skin down taught to just above your pubic hair and sew it there -- thus, you no longer have your real belly button anymore and the surgeon has to create a new one. Red and inflamed, jagged, stitched, bizarre: those are the words to describe the new belly button, at least at this stage in the game.

There was much talk of drains that stuck out of her abdomen for several weeks during the recovery, and how she basically had to just stay laying down for four weeks straight. She spent the whole time in a Vicodin haze and then had to kick the ensuing addiction in order to return to work. It took a week for the withdrawl symptoms to subside, a week where she couldn't sleep, had hot and cold flashes, and apparently was a monsterous bitch. Meanwhile, she could barely walk to and from the bathroom without collapsing into sleep afterwards, because it took so much energy to just walk 10 paces.

One of my favorite things was hearing about how the surgery came to pass. She casually mentioned to her fiancee that she'd thought about having a tummy tuck since beginning menopause. He replied, "I'll pay for it if you want to do it." Then the consultation appointment where the plastic surgeon looked at her naked body and said, "Yep, you're a perfect candidate for these procedures. Your body is going to look hot after all is said and done." (Wow, I wonder if all plastic surgeons are so sincere?)

The madness is in just how proud she is of the entire thing. She was proud to have her fiancee pay for it, she was proud that the plastic surgeon flattered her, she was proud to have drains sticking out of her body and to have a Vicodin addiction, and now she's proud to show off her newly flattened stomach and new belly button.

I mean... it's seriously all just beyond me. I've watched episodes of Dr. 90210 and Nip/Tuck, and I've seen celebrity transformations in the tabloids. I've just never had someone in my own world get surgery, and it's heart-breaking. She doesn't think it's heart-breaking, she thinks it's ground-breaking. Not that I ever looked up to her specifically in terms of feminist values, but she represented something to me.

I guess you could say I've lost my innocence where this particular subject is concerned. (That happens a lot as an adult, and it's never less shocking than the last time it happened.) What normal person elects to have herself cut open and cut and scraped away (or added to) for the sake of vanity? I'm sorry for being a judgemental asshole, but you have got to be totally sick in the head if you think it's ok to do this to yourself. Celebrities are one thing - they're not normal and as sick as it is, their livelihood depends on their apprearance. I realize that lots of people get plastic surgery done, not just the usual suspects -- but again, never anyone in my world. Perhaps it wouldn't have felt so shocking if all my coworkers hadn't followed her sermon with, "Oh my god! I'm totally going to ask my husband if I can get it done now!"

And speaking of which, my personal albeit old-school feminist values are also all riled up by the fact that her fiancee endorsed it, paid for it, and is of course supporting the theory that she now looks hot. (Whereas before she looked like dog shit? I mean, come on!)

Sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick sick!