I live in Los Angeles. The land of dreams. The City of Angels. The Abode of Heavenly Bodies. Heavenly Bodies that appear to be ethereal and from another planet, orbiting in space.
They are beautiful, tight and taut. There is no sag or lag; no limpness or looseness; no flaccid or float. There is a hardness, a firmness not only in their bodies, but their smiles, laughs and expressions.
The expressions of bursting with joy; stricken with grief; shocked out of the wits; startled with surprise and an angry furrowed brow are obliterated. An even, mellow, unwavering prosaical expression replaces the above expressions.
I wonder at times, how does it feel to experience tightness in the facial muscles during a smile or when there is a mercurial rise of temper the inability to frown. Uncomfortable, I am sure.
Plastic surgery, Botox, Implants are as prevalent in Los Angeles as Bikram’s Yoga. It is anywhere and everywhere. An acceptable norm, not limited to the elite few but prevalent in the general masses. There are billboards according to ethnic geographical diversifications for nose jobs, boob jobs, nips, tucks, sucks, enhancements, padding and a surplus of dermatological jargon.
I am a realist and not an advocate of the dictum “beauty is from within.” I have seen many people with hearts of gold, but not necessarily “beautiful” in the socially acceptable meaning of the term. True, you can see the goodness in their faces, but physically not “beautiful.”
Therefore, I amenable to self “improvement”, making yourself look “better,” and deriving confidence from it. I am not against cosmetic plastic surgery. In fact, I am developing a deep crevice between my brows (which of course is due to my deep, reflective and pondering nature haha) that I could take care of and have deeply thought of it, with an intensely furrowed brow!
What abstains me from poking myself with a paralytic solution are the women below. Women who have embraced their age, their sag, their fissures and jiggles. These are women who of course, have been blessed with physical attributes to start with. But, their bodies and faces have succumbed to inevitable Aging. They are like the “ruins” of the coliseum in Rome, magnificent in its beauty despite the ravage. These women are resplendent with confidence and acceptance of who they are. They have accepted themselves with open arms, sans doubt.
Isabella Rossellini, the Italian model and actress with royal lineage. One of the most exquisite women in the world, at least for me. She is the daughter of Ingrid Bergman. Of course, she has the Mediterranean gene of great skin and hair, which cannot be discounted. But she embraces her toothy smile, lines on her face and bags under her eyes with splendor. She is dazzling.
Ines De La Fressage is a 52 year old Parisian model, the muse of Karl Lagerfeld at one time and bold enough to pose naked on a magazine cover and admit that it was photo shopped.
Louise Bourgeois, a sculptor, a painter, an artist. Imagine if Louise had cosmetic plastic surgery done. Would her face still narrate the enigmatic story of her life, her idiosyncratic nature and her adventures? No. Her face would be like a stretched piece of hide, storyless, lifeless and comatose.
Do whatever it is to make you feel like a Heavenly Body. But, at the back of your mind remember the spectacular “ruins” of the coliseum, not perfect but grand.