I went to see the best plastic surgeon in town … on a lark. If you had access to my bank statements, you’d know it was a lark. I’m a cat, curious and skittish. But more curious. And I wanted to see what this man would say to me. He’s known for “Sleeping Beauties”, performing facial surgery on women who, when recovered, look like they’ve had the best rest ever. And they don’t have those crazy Jack Nicholson eyebrows – the first tipoff that somebody’s been under the knife.
Made a consultation appointment and appeared at the correct time. After very little paperwork, I was ushered into surgeon’s office. He was nice. But he’s in his seventies and had no grey hair and very few wrinkles. Oh yeah, he’s a plastic surgeon. And here’s how it went:
Doc: “What are you here for?”
Me: “Well, you have an excellent reputation and I’ve admired your work. Am not loving the fine lines around my mouth and wanted to know what you would do?” (Why does he keep putting his left hand under his desk?)
Doc: “Well, you have a long neck so I would do a neck somethingorother and then a midline facelift. You don’t need body work.” (How would you know? I’m fully clothed sitting across the desk from you.)
Me: “My neck? Facelift? Draw me a picture.” (And stop putting your hand under the desk)
He proceeded to draw the scariest picture of the side of a head with stitches and scars everywhere. Enough!
Me: “That looks terrifying, not to mention the recovery would be heinous.”
Doc: “I’ll throw in the upper eyelids for $1000.”
Me: “Upper eyelids … I don’t even wear mascara. What? Forget the eyes, how much for the stuff you suggested?”
Me: “So you’re talking $20,000 walking? Are you f-ing kidding me? No offense, and I realize it’s your job, but ARE YOU KIDDING ME?”
Doc: “No, and you’ll probably need tweaking in about eight years. Show me your stomach.”
Like a moron, I pulled up my shirt and showed him my stomach. What in the living hell did a midline facelift+ have to do with my stomach? I must be on Candid Camera.
Me: “Thank you for your time. You’ve confirmed my intention to age gracefully = no knives near me unless eating. But good luck – for every one of me, there’s ten you”ll “fix”. Yeah, you!”
And for the record, Dr. Demento, keep your hands where I can see’em AND hahaha, my stomach is none of your business, surgically speaking.
Oh, and if I decide to take him up on his offer in the next year, my consultation fee will be deducted from the 20K. I have happily eaten $75 with my own knife and fork.
*Unlike Nora Ephron, I feel great about my neck!