Wednesday, February 27, 2008

Plastic Surgery.













If I was in a car crash and I was facially disfigured, or if I was born with a hare lip, or some other facial abnormality, I would consider plastic surgery. But in all honesty short of those two options, that would be it and like I say, it would be to correct disfigurement, not to cause it.
Mickey Rourke was such a handsome man before he went allowed his face to be boxed senseless, but it was only after he went under the knife that he completely and utterly destroyed his face. Now he looks like a statue from Easter Island.
Kenny Rogers looks like a chinese sword maker instead of a country singer, Dolly Parton- and I love her- looks like one of the muppets. Meg Ryan looks like a sea monkey.
But it was when I saw Kelly Lebroc that I felt really shocked. Holy Moly she was so beautiful, but now... Well? What on earth does she look like? Two wet road tyres for lips, an expressionless face, a generic nose.
Why would anyone pay to do that to themselves? Why do not their surgeons, who must surely operate under some version of the Hippocratic oath, sit them down and talk them out of it? Is it the industry they work in or some other malaise?
Plastic Surgery and its other, lessor, tribulations are seriously on the rise here in Ireland with clinics dotted all over the city and 'transformations' becoming cheaper and cheaper. I've already noticed a proliferation of slightly surprised looking ladies gadding about town, wrinkle free, botoxed to within an inch of their lives. How long do you think it will take before the trickle down effect take a grip on our society? Will trout pouts become the norm? Cheek implants? Will frowning be frowned upon?
I don't know. But I looked at Julie Christie on Oscar Night who may or may not have had work done, I can't tell. But she looked her age and she looked beautiful, as did Helen Mirren, who was a goddess in her fabulous red dress and defiantly grey hair. They laughed and chatted and made more that two expressions. They were a triumph of grace over plastic.
Turning yourself into a caricature, I believe I'm against it.

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