Sunday, February 15, 2009

A Visit With The Plastic Surgeon

I don't want to get too detailed, but my insurance has agreed to pay for part of a surgery which will significantly lessen the back pain I've had since I was a teenager. So, it was to the plastic surgeon with me.

The nurse told me to put on one of their designer robes, which gave ma a laugh. But, after I saw it I realized she was right. It truly was a designer robe! It was black with pleats and pretty button closures--much nicer than the ugly gowns found at my regular doctor's office. Anyway, I put it on and was quite pleased with it. Then, the nurse brought me bottled water while I waited in the room and watched my own private television. I was starting to like the place...

The doctor came in and greeted me. He was fifty-ish, handsome, and friendly. He sat down and asked me to stand in front of him. His nurse came in and I was instructed to go ahead and take off the robe.

Huh? The whole thing? Just drop it right there? It felt really odd. Like stripping in front of him or something and I didn't like it a bit. I was very embarrassed, but did as I was told. He looked at me completely dispassionately and started handling my breasts like they weren't attached to me, manipulating them this way and that, and informing me that one of them was lower on my ribcage than the other. I never in my life noticed that! It certainly isn't that much lower! That was just the first thing he found wrong with me.

Next, he observed my stomach and asked how many children I had. I told him, "four" and he said, "I've got some stretch marks here."

Duh! I think I know that already! At least he mentioned that my abs were in good condition. That made me feel a bit better, but not much. He told me he could get rid of those stretch marks for me and explained how, which sounded terrifying, if you ask me.

Next, he turned me around like a meat inspector to look at my ass, which he said looked like it had good muscle tone, but some excess "fat deposits." Good grief, like I don't know there's too much junk in the trunk?

He then told me I "didn't have the body of a twenty-year-old." Again, DUH! I'm almost thirty-six! He did mention it was pretty good for a woman of my age, which didn't seem like much of a compliment.

The doctor left and I put on my clothes. He came back in to talk to me about different options, and kindly told me I was overall a very striking woman. I think he just wanted me to hurry up and write that humongous check...

So, I walked out through the waiting room and noticed the other women there were incredibly gorgeous. Tall, skinny, big-boobed, with collagen-injected lips and liposucked thighs. I felt very short and fat. Like an oompah-loompah that accidentally got shuffled into a Barbie fashion show.

I'm not going to look like those ladies--ever. I'll be happy with less back pain and keep my stretch marks, I suppose. But this morning, after my shower, I couldn't help but notice them more than usual. And that my breasts aren't placed perfectly on my ribcage. And that my butt is too big. And that I'm not twenty years old anymore.

Visiting a plastic surgeon isn't good for one's mental health, I don't think. I need a counselor now! ;)


Kimberly Ann

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