What Kind of Example Am I Setting by Getting a Face Lift?

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On the other hand, the idea of someone messing around with my face is very, very scary. I remember peeking in while my father performed a face lift, his body braced against the effort of jerking and pulling the patient's bloody flap of skin. Her whole face lifted and moved, as though she was wearing a mask.

I know someone who knows someone who knew someone who died during a tummy tuck. What if I slip over the thin thread of life that holds the patient during anaesthsia, leaving my three girls to be raised by The Husband?

Indeed, what kind of example am I setting for them by undergoing elective surgery to serve my own vanity? Teenager points out that very thing.

"What kind of an example are you setting?" she asks. "What's wrong with just aging? Why does everyone want to look like they're in their 20s? This is a stupid idea. You can't get a face lift."

But the date is set, my parents are coming. The ball is rolling, thundering, crashing down the hill and I feel powerless to stop it. I flinch, awaiting the knife.

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