Upon the mention of plastic surgery and beauty, a scene from Pedro Almodóvar’s Todo Sobre Mi Madre (All About My Mother) instantly comes to mind. A transgender character in the film named Agrado discusses all the work she has had done on her face and body, as well as how becoming who you wish to be is the most authentic thing a person can do. She speaks of having plastic surgery and says that it helps one to “resemble what you’ve dreamed of being.”
I think that plastic surgery is a good option for certain people who want a certain thing fixed, or nipped, or tucked.
It should also be private between a client and his or her doctor; it’s horrible to see celebrities on the cover of tabloid scandal rags with gauze on their faces. However, no matter how private most cases of plastic surgery are, the craze for work has become a bit overblown and out of control.
When it comes to women (and men: what is going on with Bruce Jenner, by the way?) who completely reconstruct their bodies to the point of non-recognition, there’s a problem. The problem is emotional; it hurts me to even think of someone with body dysmorphic disorder (and that’s a whole other discussion). But then I think of people like Amanda Lepore who are their own creation: she has completely recreated herself as a hyperreal woman. Everything about her is exaggerated: her itty-bitty waist, torpedo breasts, platinum blonde hair and plumped, shiny lips. She is an incredible person who seems as if she could only live this way; life as a normal man was not an option for her. So, I say: extreme or not, the body is a temple but, it is still your temple. So, go ahead: decorate the temple with purple velvet drapes!
By Katherine Sloan