Suzy Says

The French have a saying (don’t they always?) which goes something like, “Il faut souffrir pour être belle”, which means something like, “One has to suffer to be beautiful”. Anyone who’s ever had her eyebrows (or anything else) waxed or squeezed into control top pantyhose or worn high heels for an entire evening would agree.

Now, cosmetic surgery is kicking that whole thing up a notch. I think I’m for it, even though my niece has forbidden me to even botox (easy for her to say when she’s half my age and wrinkle-free), which isn’t really surgery at all. I wonder if botox is a gateway cosmetic procedure and just leads to harder things like liposuction and breast implants?

Anyway, I realize there are risks involved in all cosmetic surgery, ranging from disfigurement to death (which would be worse?), but until a good friend of mine had some real work done, I didn’t realize there were other unlovely consequences and weirdness that go along with it.

So, as a public service announcement to my faithful readers, I will let you in on the secrets I learned from her:

1. The operating table looked exactly like the ones they use to execute people, at least in the movies. How unnerving is that?

2. The IV hurts, both when they put the needle in and then the plastic thingie, even though they say it only “pinches”, but since they pretty much knock you out immediately the pain is as short-lived as the careers of most American Idol contestants.

3. If/when you wake up, you have a sore throat of strep-like proportions from the tube they put down your throat to keep your airway open while you’re knocked out. For several days, it’s like swallowing knives. Suggested remedy is gargling with salt water {{shudder}}.

4. You have to stay in bed for a week, which sounds like fun to someone as terminally lazy as I am, but my friend assures me that after the first couple of days when the anesthetic wears off and you start to feel better, boredom sets in. I can’t believe that sitting in bed idly flicking through fashion magazines and watching mindless TV while on prescription drugs could be that bad, but in the spirit of truthful journalism, I have to tell you that this is what she said.

Maybe the key here is to get lots of diversions set up beforehand: visits and phone calls from especially amusing friends and relations, CD’s you love, movies you love and/or have been meaning to watch but haven’t had time because of that stupid having to work thing, and possibly a visit or two from a stripper of the sex of your choice. How boring can that be? Oh, and someone to answer the door, bring you drinks, etc.

5. You can’t take a bath or shower for an entire week, a positively Gallic and gross length of time (can’t get the dressings wet).

6. At least for the procedure she had, you have to sleep sitting up for the whole week, too, like the Elephant Man, only slightly more attractive. And I do mean slightly (see #5 above). Apparently this is harder than you would think, even though they give you painkillers and valium, which has to be the fun part.

7. It’s like practicing for being old, which is pretty ironic, when you consider that the whole point of cosmetic surgery is to retain or create the illusion of youth. There are a zillion pills to take, several times a day; the bedridden thing; and the fact that when you venture out of bed, you have to walk around as slowly and carefully as if you were made of porcelain.

8. This is what I would probably find the worst part: no exercise for 4 to 6 weeks. Though she found it the perfect, cast-iron excuse not to go to the gym, and I bet a lot of people would. I think it would be worse than the boredom, which I truly believe could be kept at bay with good planning.

So there you have it. The risks of cosmetic surgery you never before considered (or at least I hadn’t). Maybe I’m not all that for it, after all.