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My friend L had a tummy tuck this winter. She had been talking about it for years, ever since the birth of her third baby. She's a tiny little thing, but after that last pregnancy, her stomach was never flat again, and it bothered her. A lot.
I never really understood why she wanted the tummy tuck. But all those years ago, when she first brought it up, I was substantially thinner than I am now; in the 18 months after my last baby was born, I went from a size 12 to a size 0. I don't know how; the business of caring for two children wore me down, I think. I remember L telling me that I was "waif-like" and then saying, gently, that she didn't mean that in a good way. She was right; I was too thin.
But I also remember her pointing to my flat stomach and saying, "You're so lucky."
These days, I'm not wearing a size 0 any more -- not even close. I'm still slim, but there's nothing waifish about me. I don't miss that other, thinner self, but I would kind of like to have my flat stomach back.
When I saw L this week, I was astounded by how fantastic she looked. And honestly? I was a little envious.
Okay a lot envious.
I'm not someone who would ever have plastic surgery; I'm not opposed to it -- if you told me you were having a proceedure of some sort, I wouldn't scoff or try to talk you out of it or scold you -- I just can't wrap my head around the idea of actually doing it myself. But for a variety of reasons -- geography, social class, age -- I know more and more women who are having various little improvements: breast implants, tummy tucks, lipo. My knee-jerk reaction is always to think first about the cost -- L's tummy tuck was the equivalent of a year's tuition for one of my kids, for example -- but I am finding that when I see these friends, with their newly revamped bodies, I am jealous.
And that surprises me.
I'm happy with my body these days, after years of finding one thing or another to dislike about it, everything from my flat chest to my big thighs to my surprising inability to get pregnant. But then I had two babies, and got bigger and smaller and stopped caring so much about what size bra I wore or how my legs looked in shorts.
As I have gotten older, of course, I've found ways to compensate for the little things I don't absolutely love; I have a great padded bra, for one, and a better sense of which hemlines work for me. I also have a healthy respect for my body and what it's capable of.
But I would still love to have a flat stomach and a pair of perfect breasts. Although I tend to forget that until I see a friend who has bought herself a new flat stomach and a pair of perfect breasts.
In the end, I put that perfect body in the same category as a gigantic diamond ring or a pair of Manolos: I understand the aesthetic appeal, but I don't think it would work for my everyday life. But not everyone feels that way: two years ago, blogger Tertia Albertyn opted for the boobs. "I am dead keen for a new set of perky boobs. I toyed with the idea a while back then kind of wrote it off but I am reinspired now. I want those boobs. Keep the diamonds, give me new boobs!"
These days, I can understand where she's coming from, even if I might not want to go there myself.
What about the health risks of plastic surgery? Marcia Yerman, at empowher, reviews "Absolutely Safe," a documentary about breasts implants and their side effects. Honestly, this convinced me that my push-up bra is the right way to go.
And for the days when I need a reminder that plastic surgery isn't always what we imagine it might be, there's this: Awful Plastic Surgery.
What about you -- ever find yourself envying another woman's newly revamped body? Why -- or why not?
