Fountain of Vanity

Gramma

Upon return from California, I hit the ground running towards the Fountain of Vanity.  Less than a week left before the big incision revision.  Two years past, I found this highly esteemed lady plastic surgeon on the internet.  She was plastic surgeon of the year in a Minneapolis/St. Paul Magazine Best Of issue. So that you don't end up looking like a Picasso, I cannot emphasize enough the importance of doing your homework before you let someone rearrange your face. 

As I spend all summer riding motorcycle and digging in the dirt, I had eons of sun damage, including some precancerous spots.  Dr. Jess suggested I do a laser burn on my face.  "You'll look ten years younger," she said.  "It can be done in my office," she said.  "It will be painful, but you will save a couple thousand dollars by not using a hospital," she said.  "You will probably hate me for a little while, but the results will be worth it."   

Dr. Jess showed me some before and after photos of clients who had experienced this procedure.  "It will be painful and you will hate me for awhile," she said.  Ten years younger was the hook. 

"You can't hurt me.  I have given birth and gotten divorced," I replied.   

I cannot emphasize enough how painful this was.  As I was screaming at one point, Dr. Jess opted not to laser my nose.  Afterwards, my face looked like it had come into close contact with a UFO.  It hurt worse than road rash.  Afterwards, you must have a fairly sterile environment to come home to.  Every few hours there is face cleaning of debris (dead skin), and reapplication of Aquaphor, which gets goo in and on everything.  Unless you are into sado-masochism, I highly don't recommend it.  At one point, I could not quit throwing up.  Poor Dr. Jess was on the phone 40 miles away listening in horror as I re-enacted scenes from The Exorcist. 

Dr. Jess assured me that a lower face lift would be a walk in the park compared to the laser treatment.  And so it was that two years later I had enough money in my "Emergency Facelift Fund" to go through with it.  The sagging of my neck and lack of definition in my jawline was a constant source of psychological torture for me.  I played with my face nearly every day, pulling the wrinkles tight in perverse ways that made me look "Fast".  Yes, I am pathetically vain and make no secret of it.  I often referenced my "Emergency Facelift Fund" in relation to whatever catastrophe depleted it or a Craig's List sale that added to it.