“Holy Filler, Batman”

 

Joan RiversHappy…sad…mad…crying??? Who knows?

So, clearly, if you are a regular, you already know that I’m a TV addict and no longer ashamed of it by the way!!  (Don’t even…)

We are ALL addicted in some way I tell ya! Just because your screen happens to be the size of your palm and fits into your purse or back pocket and poses as a phone doesn’t make you any better.

Do you hear me?

Not any better…nope…uh-uh.

Anywhoo! My love of the “Large Rectangle of Fun” in my living room, bedroom, basement, guest room…playroom…(I digress) has brought me not only much enjoyment but plenty of story starters as well.

For instance, I was watching (hahahahahaha….yes…of course this has to do with a TV show) Botched which is a new reality TV show (Really? Another one? How many can there be???? It’s endless people! Sorry the little gremlin in my head keeps interrupting me!!!!!!) where the most interesting freaks people are showcased as they seek out the “Yodas” of plastic surgery (two husbands of wives of The Real Housewives of Yada, Yada, Yada–yes it’s confusing just hang in there) to fix the mamed, marred, and flat out ruined due to a “botched” job the first time around.

You can only imagine. Check it out on BRAVO TV.

Well, watching this show has only re-enforced my feelings toward “extreme” plastic surgery and how women, in the effort to seek perfection, destroy anything they actually might have had going for them.

Now, I’m not talking about the slow little tweek here and there or the fixer uppers that look absolutely stunning afterwards. It can be done right and certainly has been done right by many, but those poor souls who apparently thought calling 1-800-I-own-a-scapel have endured quite a different fate.

One must wonder what these people were actually trying to accomplish in the first place–because if it’s  the look of a surprised, bloated trout that happens to be of Asian descent—well, then, they have certainly gotten their money’s worth, but I’m guessing their hopes and dreams rested more with trying to recreate what once was–no longer is–but can possibly be “born again” with a few pricks, pokes, slices, dices and “Wha La”… a younger version of themselves.

You know the face I’m talking about too–that jokerish, pastry puff of scariness. And don’t get me started on the grizzly effects that a little bit of laughter creates in these carefully crafted faces. It can be very difficult to tell if  “The Changed” are angry or sad…or laughing or crying. I’m sorry, but  life is confusing enough without now having to decipher why in the world someone you don’t even know is pissed off at you. I’m sensitive enough without now wondering why everyone is frowning/not smiling at me–oh wait–they are but you can’t tell…bummer.

It’s so sad, and what’s done is done. (Unless you go on Botched of course.) Leave it alone!

Age is comin’…like a freight train people…so trying to stop it is about as easy as getting Juan Pablo to stop saying “Is okay.”  

In the end, all we really have that’s worth something is our friends, our loves, our family, our spirituality, and if that’s not doing it for you, friend, I’m sorry to say…plastic surgery probably isn’t going do it for you either. Love yourselves. Be good, love your loved ones, and be a light in this dark judgy world.

It’s amazing what kind of “lift” that will give your face.

About Amy Rafferty Slagle

I am a middle school teacher juggling career, husband (ooh la la), and twin tomboys (good grief). I have a passion for writing and crave laughter just about as much as frozen yogurt. This is my attempt at sharing the madness of my world, my mind, and my humor. View all posts by Amy Rafferty Slagle

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