I was told that I had beautiful eyes by a homeless man on the bus the other day. He asked me, “Where did you get those beautiful eyes?” I answered that I thought I had got them genetically, through my father’s side, but couldn’t be 100% sure as my Grandfather on my mother’s side also has bright blue eyes. He had nothing to say about that.
It got me thinking about eyes, and how they are supposed to be the windows to the soul. Apparently, you can tell a lot from looking into someone’s eyes, especially if they are winking with one of them. It also got me thinking about laser eye surgery and how scary that sounds.
Thinking about eyes got me thinking about noses, and how mine has been referred to as “bulbous” by my sister. If I had a few extra thousand dollars maybe I’d prefer to have a nose like Nicole Kidman, who happens to have the most-requested nose, according to plastic surgeons.
Thinking about my nose got me thinking about my ears, which are embarrassingly large and asymmetrical and likely only highlighted further with the use of jewellery. And then there are my cheeks that are plump and red with rosacea, and last night’s drink.
It also got me thinking about my entire face and how if I really don’t like it, I could change anything about it. I could even out my uneven hairline, inject Botox (botulism) into my wrinkled 30-year old forehead, saw off my fanged teeth, smooth out my skin’s uneven texture, plump my lips, plump my dimpled chin, and plump my crow’s feet; which you get when you smile too much, so I should definitely stop smiling so much.
Thinking about my face got me thinking about my body, and how it would be much, much easier to have liposuction than find time to work out. And while they’re at it, they could enhance my breasts, reduce my arm sag, reduce my hip size, and make me a virgin again (yes, they really can do that).
But (and it’s a big one, I assure you), after all those surgeries, who would I be? I would no longer have to be a person who relies on her “personality” to get by. I would still have the same DNA of course, with the same IQ; I would just have bigger breasts, perfect teeth, and almond-shaped eyes. I might feel more confident and socially inclined, but I wouldn’t be me. My identity would be a façade: just a pretty face or a nice rack.
I’ll bet Stan and Linda wouldn’t take it very well. I’ll bet they would be offended that their daughter doesn’t want the body they helped create, or the nose she was born with. And, if I had a different nose I would need to get a new passport and driver’s license, which means standing in the queue at the DMV for hours. It’s just not worth it.