I went to the mall today. I know, I know, I should never do that. But sometimes I like to shop. I went for an hour on my lunch break. I tried on a bunch of clothing. Outfits that would cost me two month’s of my food budget. Looking in the mirror, I realized that even these garments, these $200 pairs of jeans and $99 shirts layered over another $99 shirt weren’t able to make me look halfway decent.
I stared at my thighs. Those chicken legs. Short, with lots of fat up on my inner thigh. I thought of a time when I was thinner and how that fat was still there, albeit slightly less prominent. I thought about how growing up my mother constantly reminded me of my fat stomach, that protruding bump that must be hidden at all times, but how she never mentioned my giant hips, butt or thighs – and how I wonder if my legs will ever look remotely attractive.
Then, I thought about liposuction. The surgery that, with a little vacuum cleaner, sucks out all your fat (while cleaning out your bank account.)
I came home, obsessed with the idea of lipo. After all, my happiness depends on not having fat thighs. That’s worth the price, isn’t it?
Of course, I’ll probably never get liposuction. The costs are far too great. It would probably cost me $3000-$4000 just to get rid of the lard on my inner thigh. And there are plenty of other areas I want to tackle to. I imagine lipo for all of my problem areas would add up to over $20k. Lower abdomen, arms, inner thigh, hips, outer thigh…
And then, I really want to get my teeth fixed. They’re yellowish and crooked, with an unsightly gap in the middle.
Throw in the laser hair removal, which would probably not be permanent due to my having PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome), add some hair extensions for kicks, a breast lift, some laser eye surgery, maybe foot surgery because that weird bone sticks out making my toes really wide and impossible to fit into any shoes, plus, why not also get a laser facial to make my skin look fresh and radiant, some new highlights and hair dye, and… then, only then, will I even start to feel good about how I might look in that pair of $200 jeans, and that $99 shirt layered over another $99 shirt.
But… at what point in one’s career does she feel entitled to spending that much money on making herself beautiful? Obviously people do it, there wouldn’t be that many plastic surgeons in the world if the only people getting such surgery were in accidents.
I’m 24 now, and in my 20s, I just want to be beautiful. In my 30s, I want to be beautiful. I want to enjoy the last remnants of my youth by – being able to wear a bikini and feel beautiful.
Sure, I could exercise, I could eat right. That would help a lot. But I don’t think all of the fat would go away. It would stick around some places. That’s just what happens. That’s why people get surgery.
I want to save up for liposuction.
But I also want to, one day, buy a house.
Lipo versus a house… I think the house wins.
And once I buy a house, well, I’ll have to pay for that house for many years to come.
And then I’ll have children and they’ll cost a fortune. And if I actually have them (and not adopt) my stomach will get even worse. And I’ll want plastic surgery even more. But by then it will be impossible to be that selfish. The money will have to go to bills and health insurance for the family and my kids and their summer camps and college and…
And I’ll never be able to enjoy being beautiful.