...surgery, that is. As we age we have a choice: we can look like a rumpled paper bag, or we can go the plastic surgery route and resemble Joan Rivers. From breast implants and butt implants (yes, butt implants) to Botox and fillers, it seems like every woman, and many men, in Los Angeles have had a little work.
There are women who look like Batman's The Joker—their faces frozen from surgery, fillers, and Botox—who swear they haven’t had any work done. This makes me wonder what constitutes “work” and what doesn’t? Maybe it’s only a touch of lipo to remove those saddlebags that can’t be exorcized with exercise and diet, or a shot of synthetic filler in the nasolabial fold to avoid a permanent scowl, but it’s still cosmetic surgery. Or doesn’t it count if you weren’t under general anesthetic?
One woman I know lies about the work she has had done (or hasn’t as she prefers to say) as much as she lies about her age. One minute she’s 39; the next she’s 42. She’ll say she hasn’t done filler in over a year having forgotten that the week before she wouldn’t leave the house, because she had bruises from her Juvederm treatment. Maybe all that Botox is short-circuiting the memory part of her brain. Seriously, when you start looking like the blue chick in Avatar, it’s time to just be honest about how much foreign substance you’ve injected into your cheeks.
Two years ago, after a series of brutal sinus infections, I decided to get my nose done. The inside of my nose. I went to the best ENT surgeon in Beverly Hills, a man who is legendary for the work he has done on the Jackson’s, Liz Taylor, Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley and virtually every singer from the 50s through till his recent retirement. A few months ago, I was at a charity event and met two plastic surgeons from Vegas who swore I had rhinoplasty (aka a nose job). I swore I didn’t. I even showed them photos from before and after the surgery for my deviated septum. They wouldn’t believe me and went so far as to call my nose a Kantor nose (Kantor being the name of my legendary doctor), claiming I had the perfect super tip—whatever that is. Geez Louise! My nose is the same nose I’ve had my entire life. If I were going to do my nose, you think maybe I’d remove the bump and make the tip more narrow and elegant. I guess it’s such a common practice in LA to lie about one’s plastic surgery, that if something looks too good to be true (in this case, my nose), everyone assumes that person has been under the knife.
I spent my life pursuing a career in front of the camera and I can’t tell you how many times casting directors rejected me for being void of cleavage. If I were going to have plastic surgery, it wouldn’t be my nose that I’d change. I guess a little Nip/Tuck is okay if it makes you feel better about yourself, but does all this plastic surgery actually make people look better? Or does trying to look younger make them look older? And if it’s good for the goose, is it also good for the gander? I can tell you a lot of celebrity men have gotten into the hair transplant thing (ever see Matthew McConaughey a few years ago, versus Mathew McConaughey now?) and you can’t tell me that Michael Douglas hasn’t had a facelift of two. I guess my thought is that if it makes you look and feel better, go for it—but the line between good and scary has become quite blurred. What are your thoughts?