Boobs all wonky, noses crooked,
Muffin tops and saggy skin,
They can be fixed, carved
Into the perfect, sculpted shape.
But just remember that your beauty
Is priced so high because you’ll know
That your face is stuffed with fat
The surgeon sucked out of your ass.
I don’t know about anyone else, but I love watching Botched whenever I’m writing. It’s the perfect TV to watch when you can’t dedicate too much attention to it, but you do want some entertainment.
I find some of the cases fascinating and it does get me thinking about whether I would ever get anything done. There is so much risk and I don’t like hospitals at the best of times so, on the one hand, I think it would be a ridiculous thing to do. Plus, I’m not even one of those girls who wears makeup and dresses up nicely. I’m a bit of a plain Jane who loves to wear sweatshirts and leggings.
But then there is that other part of me that sees a really gorgeous woman in the street and thinks ‘wow, I wish I could look that hot’. If I could just get that bump in my nose straightened out. If I could get my boobs lifted or the bags under my eyes removed.
But what would I actually be achieving? I’m not famous; I don’t have millions of people looking at me every day. I doubt anyone in the last year has commented on my looks behind my back, and if they have, I don’t know how much I care. I’d feel a bit sorry for them for the fact that that’s all they have to talk about.
So no, I don’t think I’d ever spend my hard earned cash on plastic surgery. I can completely understand why people would and I think that if it makes you happy then you should absolutely go ahead and do it. But I’m too much of a wuss and besides, it feels like it would be a big waste of money to get a boob job when it’s only my cat that really notices me.