Now, I am not about to get a face-lift, nor am I recommending it. My fear of needles and surgery would be enough to keep me from the procedures. But I have had some second-thoughts about it. Last week I went to a new doctor and her first question was, as usual, “what is your secret” as my physical appearance does defy my age. Instead of saying exercise, eating well, meditation, etcetera, I replied “heredity”. And her response was, in a minor key and downward note, “oh”. In general I am proud of my well-seasoned age. I have had too many friends and family not live as long or with as much ease.
Sunday evening past I was feeling kind of down and turned on the TV for company (I don’t usually watch television much, but that is long story for another time) and I don’t usually do “nothing” (also probably heredity), so as I sat there knitting, I found I had tuned in to a program on cosmetic surgery.
The program followed two women in their forties. The first was getting Botox treatments to erase the sadness from her face that came after the death of her son in a car accident. Working from the outside in. To her the treatments were very successful. She said she felt better and could face (no pun intended) her life better. To me it did not erase the sadness in her eyes.
When I first saw the second woman, I thought “why bother”. But after the surgery, the change was startling. She definitely looked better and projected a joy that was infectious.
At one point during the course of the program, a statement was posted across the screen: research has shown that women who have face-lifts live on the average ten years longer. Surgery for the mind. Attitude. There are, actually, less expensive and less invasive techniques. But, whatever works.
Posted by leya at January 29, 2004 07:44 AM