Recently, I have been thinking about cosmetic surgery. A nip and a tuck. I could be a little more perfect. If I was a movie star I would have done it already.
To be honest the idea is appealling, because I am vain. And I think “we only live once”, so why not have it all.
On the other hand, where does it end. My boobs need a lift, my tummy a tuck, my thighs could be trimmer, my legs could be wider at the ankle, my feet could be more elegant, my chin could be stronger, my face less lined, my eyes less wrinkly, my lips fuller. Oh, and my teeth could be miles straighter.
When I am alone, and I look at my body, my skin, I don’t feel appalled by myself. I see my tummy and I remember how it changed with my babies. I see my breasts, and I remember how big they got, and small, and big and small. I like who I am and, as lived in, how I look. Any changes I made cosmetically wouldn’t be for my own self esteem or satisfaction.
I have met men who have loved “my body” (whether they loved me or not) at various stages of my life. Some men are better at it than others. I have met men who have devoured me as a girl, as a maiden, and as a mother. There’s something more personal about the desire for me as a mother; I’m not a girl from a magazine any more.
I think I have come to feel that whilst I am loved, my body is not adored. At least not in the way that I adore my lovers body; and although I feel grief for it, I accept it, because it cannot be changed on either side.
I did not love my last partners body. At least not in the way that I love my new partners body. Maybe he didn’t love his own body; he coloured it in ink to change it. It’s the little things that get us in the end.
My body can be desired, under red lights at a sex club whilst voluntarily shacked to a frame; I was desired, but by a stranger. My body can be admired, on the red climb, like a robot, I was admired but for precision. I wonder if my body has an ego.
This body I have can make replicas of itself, and it has this wild idea that it might be adored forevermore it if went on such a mission again. With this in mind, the desire to be inpregnated by the most gorgeous body on the planet is quite strong. This would surely stoke the fires of the body ego one last time.
So it’s external cosmetic modification or internal organic modification. That’s the summary of this random blog.
I gotta start finding other options for personal body love.