So my cougar-friend finally went under the knife! (Read: Dating Older Women with Plastic with Plastic Surgery: Part 1)
When I got the call that she was waking from surgery, I rushed to see her. All the way there my mind was spinning with questions:
– Would she look like a National Enquirer cover pic of Elizabeth Taylor?
– Would she look like Frankenstein? Her face black and blue?
– Would she already be regretting it? If so, how on earth would I deal with having encouraged her?
– Would I even recognize her?
Well, I didn’t recognize her. But not because she was black or blue or Liz Tayloresque. Despite being (mostly) bruise-free, she was a bit swollen, that’s it. And her head was wrapped in a thick white bandage that made her look (because of a single tuft of loose hair) like Tweety Bird. I couldn’t help but laugh.
It’ll be weeks before the bandages come off, but already I saw the improvement. The surgeon, out of the goodness of his pocketbook, also threw-in a lip enhancement for free (oh, well, that’s one less Mercedes he’ll be buying). Swollen face and slight bruising notwithstanding, what was the overall effect? Imagine Angelina Jolie in her 50’s!
She said she struggled with second-thoughts up to the very second the morphine kicked in!
Am I being ridiculously selfish?
What if I end up looking like Joan Rivers?
What if people laugh at me for having it done?
These worries have now gone the way of the VHS-player. What can be seen through the Tweety Bird helmet looks awesome, and within weeks she’ll be back in the game, likely turning men’s heads.
Does she have any regrets, I asked her? Not a one. Best decision of her (cougar) life!
…Although she’s asked me not to hold her to that until the bandages are off completely. We all saw The English Patient, afterall… (But like I told her: that movie cleaned up at the Oscars!)
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