Lately, I’ve spent more time than I care to admit, talking about plastic surgery. What could I do? What would I do? What should I do? Now I do live in the land of nip tuck pull something somewhere it doesn’t belong – but I have a feeling the “Under The Knife State” isn’t the only state this conversation is taking place. I do know one thing – it seems to be a conversation only happening with women and maybe a handful or two of gay men. Okay – three handfuls. Just the other night – my drop dead gorgeous stunningly beautiful truly magnificent looking friend and I discussed who in Hollywood has had something done. The answer? Who hasn’t. She said everyone is doing the new mini ponytail. I thought it was a hairstyle. It’s not. Well it is but it’s also this other thing that pulls your flesh up like a ponytail. Put a bow on that shit. She thinks it’s a wonderful thing. I think – it’s not for me. And here’s why: If you can show me one human being “live and in person” that looks normal after having their skin pulled somewhere it wasn’t – I’m in. Now I’m not talking about how they look on film where they’ve been lit hotter than the surface of the sun or on a press line through your television set where their makeup has been applied with a spatula and they’ve been iced like a cake. I’m talking about seeing them in the flesh without looking like their flesh has been physically pulled back and I just can’t see where it’s tucked in or clipped or rubber banded or taped. I’m talking about no weird creepy eyelids that are clearly new flesh. Or lips you could stick to a wall with. Or a face that’s smooth as glass paired with hands that have seen some bumpy roads. I understand why women who are on camera are trying to maintain their youth. They have to. They’ll be fired if they don’t. Or made to play a grandmother when they hit the ripe old age of 38. But I’m not on camera and I don’t make a living based on what I look like and so this summer I have spent trying to learn to embrace my lines, wrinkles, age spots, etc. and work on the one thing I can change – my outside to be more healthy and my inside to care less about what my outside looks like. Now all this may change next week when I look at the picture of myself I posted proudly boasting that I earned all of the lines in my face but for now, that’s how I feel. I want to feel pride in the way I look because the life I’ve led is in my face. I want to embrace the deep furrows and wrinkles and age spots – maybe not the annoying grey fucking hair – but you know – the things that say how far I’ve come because so far – it’s been an amazing life. Do I want to look older? Fuck no. Do I want to feel younger. Fuck yes. Do I want to be considered beautiful at my age? Of course. If a woman says no – she’s lying – or she lives somewhere really cold where she can stay bundled up.
And so I’ve dubbed this summer – the summer of letting go. Let go of the things you cannot change and embrace the things you can. Let go of the hatred you have for yourself and find something to love because it may be cliché but love really is the answer. This goes for people to. It’s hard enough trying to love yourself especially if you’re surrounded by people telling you why you shouldn’t. Fill your enemies with love and maybe they won’t want you dead. I found out recently that someone I used to know – wants me dead. I tickled a tiger and now that tiger is using some powerful stuff to try and stop me – physically. I used my words to try and stop her – and it has unleashed a wrath I didn’t know was possible. I suppose it’s my own fault. I said some pretty harmful stuff. But what I said was the truth and I didn’t just say it for me – I said it for many people who had been wronged – and I hoped somehow – the verbal slap like the physical one she tried to give me – would change her – and it hasn’t. Now it looks like I need to try another tactic. And so – I forgive you. I forgive you for physically trying to hurt me, for mentally trying to crush me, for making me believe I wasn’t talented, for hating me so much that you wanted to make me feel smaller than you and mostly – I forgive you for wanting me to be physically harmed now – despite that most people would find this – unforgiveable. Your hatred of me will not change the lack of love you have for yourself. Go find some of that. I am.
So, I’m going to spend the rest of my summer trying to bitch less about my cellulite and boast more about my qualities as a friend. I’m going to complain less about my weight and crow more about my talents as a writer. I’m going to whine less about my wrinkles and stop counting my years – i’m going to embrace it all… the bumps bruises scars marks holes and I’m going to love the fuck out of all of them because I’m so grateful to be alive and live the very privileged life I do.
And I’m going to pray for your soul – and you know who you are.