Plastic-scene


When I was first starting to learn about weight loss surgery, one of the topics brought up at the outset was plastic surgery. In essence, what was explained was that one should view WLS as a two-part set of operations: the surgery to cause the weight loss itself and then a series of plastic surgeries to address the remnant skin which would inevitably occur with a loss of over 100 lbs. The jovial nurse explained that those of us who would undergo the surgery were like breast cancer patients who had "chosen" to have a mastectomy. Yes, one could live a life without a reconstructed breast, she explained, but most people chose to have the surgery to look as "normal" and "attractive" as possible. Her talk was ripe with heavy assumptions about how we should want to look, particularly those of us of the female persuasion.

If you've read any substantial amount of my writings in this blog, you have probably developed a sense that I am quite "allergic" to these assumptions about how I "want" to look. Is the "unexamined" body worth living in, to pervert a phrase by our old friend Socrates? At the root of this assumption seems to be that, having lost enough weight to finally look "normal" with clothes on, why wouldn't we want to go the short few extra steps and boost our self-images by having the undercarriage match the chassis, as it were.

Let me be perfectly clear: I am talking about my own issues with conformity, looks and the disproportionate pressure (societal and WLS peer varieties) that I detect from conversations and posts on the usual DS and WLS boards to match a certain look. Lest you think I'm exaggerating about the interest in this subject, look at the number of views for topics like "plastics" and "PS". Notice here that the word "surgery" is often omitted or abbreviated to its first initial. What I am not talking about is plastic surgery for reasons of physical health, mobility, or general comfort - including being able to fit reasonably into clothes, without having to study origami or contortionism to figure out how to get your arms, thighs, buttocks or breasts into normal street clothes.

As an American woman d'un certain âge (ok, we're not talking Jeanne Moreau, but someone who has grown up with the media inundation of the 1960's forward), I cannot begin to count the images which I have encountered telling me not only how I should look, but how I must look to live a happy, fulfilled, desireable life. One of the few redeeming sides of being fat most of my life is that I was so clearly able to look at those images, not recognize myself and take in the subconscious message, "Hey, this is not me". Moreover, I think in retrospect I took it one step further in my mind, saying, in essence, "If this isn't me, and there are no pictures that represent me, then I get to pick how I want to look and how I want to be in the world". Not being visible to the world as a minority -- that is, not a minority worthy of major commercial consideration -- can be isolating, but it can also be liberating.

When my WLS peers begin to discuss the "work" they want done to change their bodies, often, though absolutely not always, so that they can wear clothing that reveals their upper arms or thighs or so that they can wear a bikini, I sometimes feel acutely uncomfortable. When I see pre-op pictures of these ladies' bodies - and many before/after series are published - I find myself thinking, "I've seen saggier skin on many a 40 or 50something in a Finnish sauna". Then I see the red and pink scars circumscribing their bellies, arms and thighs after the surgery. These are not "normal" marks that women who have not had plastic surgery - or been in major accidents - would have. Which situation is more "normal"? For some of these women, these are serial surgeries (this type of surgery is time-consuming and one should only be under general anesthesia for a certain amount of time), each one with risks inherent to any major surgery - infection, bad reactions to anesthesia, blod clots, etc. And, because most of these surgeries are not medically necessary, they are not covered by insurance, and therefore cost at least tens of thousands of dollars.

So, if I feel so uneasy about plastic surgery, why am I even thinking about it? When my surgeon confirmed my hernia, he said,"This is your ticket to your insurance paying for your plastic surgery. The best repair for your hernia, given your issue with adhesives, etc., would be to use your own muscle and do it with a "tummy tuck". He was honestly happy for me. I was shocked and felt sad about the prospect of still more cutting into my assaulted body. Personally, if I never see the inside of a surgical theatre again, then I'll be happy. What is with this attitude of "if you don't like it, cut it off, or (to be more polite) 'surgically modify' it"?

Another issue that has brought the concept of surgery closer is that I am really not responding well to the diflucan treatment. Not only does it give me nausea, it doesn't appear to be effective in beating back this thrush in the not so usual places. For insurance purposes, this is another legitimate reason for them to cover this type of plastic surgery, i.e., to reduce the number of places, skin folds, etc. that this type of systemic infection lurks. What if I'm in the position to either itch constantly and have oozing infected sores on various parts of my body - and we're not even talking high sweat season here - or have the surgery, with all of its possible side effects, pain, keloid scarring and the general loss of control I feel being at the mercy of the surgery/recovery process? It's another health gamble with smaller stakes and greater odds.

I'm bumping up the against the world of women's images, health and surgery. I didn't have the surgery for my looks or my head. But my looks have changed, towards a more societally acceptable variant. Logically, at least following logic of a certain sort, it makes sense that society and its members reward those, particularly women, who conform to its norms and aesthetics. No one really cares that a) I never had any input on those rules or b) that I "conform" to them for my very own reasons and purposes. If your stomach falls off in the night and nobody saw it, did it ever really exist?