My girlfriends from college and I were having an online discussion the other day about a topic that I think warrants exposure to the broader public. A condition that is encountered more frequently among our peer group, yet so little recognition has been given to its ability to wreak havoc on relationships. So, let us cut to the chase, nip this situation in the bud, tuck our modesty away and help implant a more civilized and open discussion of “Suspicion of Plastic Surgery Syndrome”.
Have you experienced this socially paralyzing disorder in your circle of friends? A situation that begins with a face-to-face encounter with a (usually female) chum who you may not have seen in a while and ends with you staring pointedly at her perky chest/nose/forehead like Jack Black eyeballing…well…anything? The question to be answered here is—what is protocol? Do you go full frontal and acknowledge the rhino(plasty) in the room or avoid the surgical strike and play along with nature’s (unnatural) reversal?
There is precedent for this—a related disorder called “Moley-Mole Stupefaction”. The sufferer finds him/herself unable to carry on normal human discourse when confronted with a distracting mole/birthmark/ripe-and-ready zit on the face of another. The urge to grab a scalpel/tweezer/bandaid overwhelms all conversational focus. Moley-Mole does resemble Suspicion of Plastic Surgery Syndrome since the two share the element of surprise and the need to suppress a laser-like staring reflex. But from there they part company. After all, you will not likely have to see Moley-Mole again once he unclogs your toilet and gets back into his van. Your surgically enhanced chum will be coming to your Christmas party in two weeks.
I have a friend who was visiting her old buddy whom she hadn’t seen in a couple of years. My friend had gone from “flat to fluffy” in the pectoral area (if you know what I mean) and was a little nervous about how to broach the topic—if at all!—during her lunch visit. Feeling a little self-conscious and unsure of how to proceed, my friend arrived at the restaurant, located her friend and as she approached the table was shocked to see that her long-lost pal had also experienced miraculous mammary expansion! The two friends and their 4 silicone companions sat through the meal with nary a comment, as if they had been chesty specimens their whole lives.
But I have other friends who are proud to announce their enhancements. That really takes the pressure off. Although this scenario presents its own etiquette minefield. When a friend confesses that she just had her eyes done and you (or more likely your husband) say, “Really?” well just assume that your invitation to join your friend’s Book Club got lost in the mail.
Where is Emily Post when we need her? I’m not sure that society has settled on a solution for this quandary. I have witnessed some pretty drastic extremes in how people behave. To protect their identities, I will not use names here, but let’s call example number one “My mother-in-law” or MMIL for short. The MMIL’s of the world are not endowed with a tact meter, so that any thought that flows through their brain comes flying out of their mouth. Upon seeing a friend that has just had her face refreshed, the MMIL, might say something like, “Wow Betty, you must have had that face job you always wanted. Now you barely notice your yellow teeth!”
And then there’s the opposite end of the spectrum—let’s call this one “Angry Ex-Sister-Law” or AESL—who won’t acknowledge enhancements even when they are self identified. AESL is so unhappy/jealous/dissatisfied with her own genetics that she can’t be happy for anyone else who improves upon their own flaws. The AESL might say, “Why did you do that? Now you just look desperate!” Nice touch.
The way our government is thinking these days, there may come a time when we see openly encouraged, government sponsored cosmetic surgery. Why should people be held accountable for their own inherited traits? Bring on the “Genetic Compensation Bill” Speaker Pelosi! And once an aquiline nose and lipo-suctioned thigh are commonplace, we won’t have this dilemma. But until then, I think Emily Post would agree that there is a happy medium to be reached when one encounters a plasto sneak attack. A simple, “Wow, you look great! Did you lose weight?” is safe in most situations. Unless you’re talking with the Olsen twins, it’s a pretty good bet that this would be considered a compliment. And if the enhanced one chooses to ‘fess up, good for her. If not, let the nips fall where they may.
Have you experienced this socially paralyzing disorder in your circle of friends? A situation that begins with a face-to-face encounter with a (usually female) chum who you may not have seen in a while and ends with you staring pointedly at her perky chest/nose/forehead like Jack Black eyeballing…well…anything? The question to be answered here is—what is protocol? Do you go full frontal and acknowledge the rhino(plasty) in the room or avoid the surgical strike and play along with nature’s (unnatural) reversal?
There is precedent for this—a related disorder called “Moley-Mole Stupefaction”. The sufferer finds him/herself unable to carry on normal human discourse when confronted with a distracting mole/birthmark/ripe-and-ready zit on the face of another. The urge to grab a scalpel/tweezer/bandaid overwhelms all conversational focus. Moley-Mole does resemble Suspicion of Plastic Surgery Syndrome since the two share the element of surprise and the need to suppress a laser-like staring reflex. But from there they part company. After all, you will not likely have to see Moley-Mole again once he unclogs your toilet and gets back into his van. Your surgically enhanced chum will be coming to your Christmas party in two weeks.
I have a friend who was visiting her old buddy whom she hadn’t seen in a couple of years. My friend had gone from “flat to fluffy” in the pectoral area (if you know what I mean) and was a little nervous about how to broach the topic—if at all!—during her lunch visit. Feeling a little self-conscious and unsure of how to proceed, my friend arrived at the restaurant, located her friend and as she approached the table was shocked to see that her long-lost pal had also experienced miraculous mammary expansion! The two friends and their 4 silicone companions sat through the meal with nary a comment, as if they had been chesty specimens their whole lives.
But I have other friends who are proud to announce their enhancements. That really takes the pressure off. Although this scenario presents its own etiquette minefield. When a friend confesses that she just had her eyes done and you (or more likely your husband) say, “Really?” well just assume that your invitation to join your friend’s Book Club got lost in the mail.
Where is Emily Post when we need her? I’m not sure that society has settled on a solution for this quandary. I have witnessed some pretty drastic extremes in how people behave. To protect their identities, I will not use names here, but let’s call example number one “My mother-in-law” or MMIL for short. The MMIL’s of the world are not endowed with a tact meter, so that any thought that flows through their brain comes flying out of their mouth. Upon seeing a friend that has just had her face refreshed, the MMIL, might say something like, “Wow Betty, you must have had that face job you always wanted. Now you barely notice your yellow teeth!”
And then there’s the opposite end of the spectrum—let’s call this one “Angry Ex-Sister-Law” or AESL—who won’t acknowledge enhancements even when they are self identified. AESL is so unhappy/jealous/dissatisfied with her own genetics that she can’t be happy for anyone else who improves upon their own flaws. The AESL might say, “Why did you do that? Now you just look desperate!” Nice touch.
The way our government is thinking these days, there may come a time when we see openly encouraged, government sponsored cosmetic surgery. Why should people be held accountable for their own inherited traits? Bring on the “Genetic Compensation Bill” Speaker Pelosi! And once an aquiline nose and lipo-suctioned thigh are commonplace, we won’t have this dilemma. But until then, I think Emily Post would agree that there is a happy medium to be reached when one encounters a plasto sneak attack. A simple, “Wow, you look great! Did you lose weight?” is safe in most situations. Unless you’re talking with the Olsen twins, it’s a pretty good bet that this would be considered a compliment. And if the enhanced one chooses to ‘fess up, good for her. If not, let the nips fall where they may.
Does "enhacing" your hair color fit into the same category? I'm too cheap to pay for any other "enhancements." My husband better love me the way I am or else......
ReplyDeleteOops...that should have been "enhancing" not "enhacing"
ReplyDeleteAnd, then there's your friend who has had 2 nosejobs since you've known her and has never been embarrassed about talking about it! :)
ReplyDelete