Live your life in such a way that when your feet hit the floor in the morning, Satan shudders and says "Oh shit, she's awake."

Friday, December 9, 2011

What's that sucking sound???

Recently while out and about one night, someone mentioned that she had liposuction on her waist and hips. I was surprised since she was already an very attractive woman with a knockout figure. Now I am certainly not one of those people who shuns cosmetic surgery, unless of course it is to the extreme and you start to resemble something out of Madam Trussard’s Wax Museum, or your skin is so tight, your eyebrows are hidden in your hairline. Indeed, I have been contemplating a little Restalyn or perhaps some Juvaderm for my upper lip which is starting to resemble that of a woman who has been smoking for 30 years (no idea why, I’ve never smoked in my life.) I’ve had breast reduction surgery and to this day, I can say without hesitation it was the best decision I ever made – not because I was worried about my back failing under the weight of my 38DD’s. I had it done purely for vanity's sake. Let’s face it, there is absolutely nothing attractive about breasts that enter a room before you do on a 5’3” frame. At least men will now look me in the eye. Alas though, poor Bill. I married a “boob” man, and now he’s got a wife with teeny tiny, albeit perky, boobs. He keeps threatening to buy them back for me. I keep telling him he needs to become a leg/ass man.

But liposuction? Liposuction is the one procedure that conjures up some really horrible images. I’ve talked to people who have had this procedure and apparently what happens over time is that the fat you had sucked off one part of your body will appear in another area entirely. This is not an urban legend, I swear. I have anecdotal evidence. So let’s say, for the sake of argument, that you have liposuction on your stomach. Does that mean you’ll eventually grow a butt as big as Kim Kardashian or Jennifer Lopez? Not like that’s a bad thing, mind you. I’d kill for J Lo’s rear end. But what if the fat comes back, let’s say, around your neck and you look like you have goiter for the rest of your life? I like scarves and all, but that would be a tough one to cover up. Or what if you have liposuction on your thighs and the fat comes back on your arms and your look like you have curtain valances instead of well-toned triceps? Worse yet, it comes back around your ankles and you then have the dreaded cankles for all eternity? Think about it, there are worse places to have a little “cushion” than around your fanny or your tummy. This fear of lipo has helped me to develop a happy and satisfied relationship with my “pooch.” And it has helped me develop an appreciation for a strategically-worn pair of Spanx under certain outfits.

It sucks to grow old for a lot of reasons, not all related to physical attractiveness… memory loss, eyesight issues, the inability to sneeze or laugh without wetting your pants are on the top of my list of complaints. Wrinkles? They definitely suck, and I work hard to ward them off by whatever method necessary. But you know what? Eventually they will come and you realize IT WILL BE OK. I don’t want to look like I’m 20 again. Hell, I still had acne at 20, so really, there is nothing even remotely enticing about that prospect. I’ll settle for looking ten years younger than my age and that is just fine with me. I’ll be forty-seven in February. Recently, a gentleman guessed my age to be in my late thirties. I was so elated I nearly kissed him right there on the spot. Really, what more could I ask for at this point in my life? And when I’m 60 and someone tells me I look 50? Hell, I’ll be REALLY happy about that. While 50 may seem a bit old now (it’s definitely closer than I wished), someday I will look back with great fondness and remember how young 50 really was.

The goal for this girl is to grow old gracefully, with dignity, and with a twinkle in my eye, and probably a cocktail in my hand. I’ll take a bit of help here and there and I will still work to “maintain the buffet”, but in the end, I want to appreciated not only for who I was years ago, but for who I am right here, right now. And that folks is the lesson in growing old. Time can either drag you along with it, kicking and screaming, or you can dance along side it, and enjoy every moment. I choose to dance.


  1. Gracefully . . . pfft. I'm in the camp of going down as "that chick who is loud and no one knows what she will do next."

    I think I've started that well with hooker bras at the MD's office.