BAD HOUSE FIRE

This past summer my cousin asked me to go with her to a plastic surgeon consultation.  She was interested in getting a breast lift and implants to step in line with so many other middle-aged women seeking to regain their youth.  Oh brother.

I myself am not looking to regain my youth, and I am not fond of being poked, prodded, jabbed, dilated, stuck, stretched, or scanned.  I am not interested in my cholesterol numbers, mammogram results, or scheduling a colonoscopy to dig up god knows what.  Look, I consider old age the last chapter and we have no choice but to keep turnin the pages. If I am sick I will go to a doctor but I know I am not immortal and that makes good sense to me.  When it comes to gravity I'm handlin it my way and the plan is to keep wearin underwire  the way good old Victoria intended.

 I told Suzi  to just put on a good bra and be done with it but no, she was intent on going and taking me with her.  Driving there I reminded her that I do not like doctors, doctors offices, and waiting in general.  She laughed saying "I know I know but I still want to hear what you think after we see what the doctor has to say. 

I warned her.

So.  Off we go.

Walking through the smokey glass doors the cool air rushed out along with the smell of money dipped in scented body butter. "Mmmmm, it sure smells good in here I will give you that much."

As Suzi filled out the standard medical forms I did what I do by looking around and taking notes.  Yuck.  The decorator did everything matchy-matchy like my old obnoxious roommate.  I prefer eclectic . 

What a true pain in the ass she was, all concerned about my unmatched furniture.  Hell, the two sides of face did not match.  And damn if you ever wanted anything to match I'd say it would be the two sides of your face.  But you did not hear me complain.  She was also not a fan of having pets because they don't wear underwear.  You should of seen the two sides of her mis-matched face when I told her she had a problem on her hands then because her new roommate did not wear any either.

A young woman came to the inner door and called my cousins name.  We both got up and followed her aesthetic looking self to the examining room.  The woman looked like a Stepford wife on steroids.  Her peach uniform matched her lipstick, nail polish, and eyeshadow that matched perfectly with the peach paint on the office walls.  

I was then offered to take a seat in the doctor's private office to wait while my cousin was physically examined.   Again I looked around. Peach peach and more peach.  Oh my goodness.  The picture frames, the windrow dressings, carpet, even the furniture was a light distressed peach.  

Shortly thereafter in walked Suzi followed by the surgeon to whom I was introduced.   Well well looky here.   Not only was the whole office dressed in peach but the good doctor too as he extended his hand from his peach shirt and peach plaid tie.  I could not help but smile. He offered us both to please sit, then handed us a photo album that contained large before and after pictures of his patients and their procedures.

Oh my oh my oh my.  By the look on my face I am sure this doctor was thinking., this damn broad is going to blow the sale.  And he would have been right.  After seeing one page after the next of breast, chin, cheek, and butt implants, I felt like both my retinas were ready to fly off my eyeballs.  I just cannot imagine what in the world these women were thinking to do this to their bodies in the name of youth.  How looking like an Alien with a huge butt equates to youthfulness I will never know, but indeed to each their own.  

Take the aged singer Madonna for example.  She was born in 1958 making her 63 years old.  Her public persona for singing and acting is one thing but perhaps she is best known for wearing underwear as clothes.  So one can imagine her plight to stay young is heavy duty.  Her aim has obviously been to look young, sexy, refreshed, and revitalized as she still wants to run around naked.  But I say hell no, it did not work out.  Because instead she looks like she survived a bad house fire and I am left wonderin just how many skin grafts the poor thing had to endure.  This cannot be the desired look, she was going for.  Bless her heart.

After we pulled in the drive at home Suzi seemed a bit irritated as she looked at me with exasperation and asked Well, do you have anything positive to say?"  

"Yes."  I told her.  "Yes, I do. If you decide to go through with this I can pretty much guarantee you that they will match."