When Nora Ephron felt bad about her neck, she bought some turtlenecks and wrote a fairly amusing book on the subject. When Liz Jones felt bad about her hands she went out and injected fat from her own bottom into them. And it worked out great!
I hail a taxi home — all the time I’m aware of the lumps of bulky gauze on my thighs and wrists.
We pass bars and restaurants full of people laughing and drinking, and not for the first time I feel jealous of anyone who is not me: alone, having had more painful surgery to try to make myself better, as if anyone cared or noticed.
Two days later, I’m very happy with my new chubby hands and keep putting a finger to my face to check it matches.
They feel like a new purchase, a new Mulberry bag, which in a way they are, though without the crocodile effect.
After one restless night, they are no longer swollen or bruised, though my legs are so painful — the entry wounds seep blood and gunk — that I can barely walk.
I can’t help but wonder what on earth women will be asked to worry about next. I’ve been peering at my feet, which my husband told me were my best feature and one of the reasons he married me, and which suddenly seem to have purple veins around the ankles.
The nails seem a little thicker than they once were, requiring more coats of Tom Ford shocking pink polish. I consider calling Dr Wolf to ask about foot rejuvenation, but change my mind.
So, I guess, actually, that did not work out so well, really. If you like wholly unnecessary, very painful, scarcely noticeable beauty procedures, here are some other things you might like to try:
Thinning hair? Make yourself a delightful wig out of your pubic hair. Change your name to “Curly.” Go forth free and happy.
Sparse eyelashes? Harvest hundreds of feathers from tiny birds and attach them to your own. Flutter them!
Drooping eyelids? Clockwork Orange stuff. Just everything they did in A Clockwork Orange.
Neck with some folds? Buy yourself a turtleneck. Maybe be sane about things. Maybe that would be fun, huh?
Weird hands? Chop ‘em right off. Hooks are all the rage.
Picture via WENN