Makes me think of a show I watched the other day with a friend. It was the essence of morbid fascination, us watching that show...a reality tv thing about women who were getting a complete body makeover to participate in a beauty contest in the grand finale.
And they were all so lovely looking before.
After the operation...sure, the cellulite was gone, but so was the personality.
Though, to be honest...perhaps they deserved bodies and faces to match their souls. Boring ones.
Sometimes, plastic surgery can really make a person's life change. There are problems we can't cope with. Even if it's a small thing no one else notices, if getting it 'fixed' helps you hold your head up high, what the hey, go for it. But you gotta have balls to make that decision yourself. Tv can't be the soothing voice suggesting it's the only right thing to do, suggesting that there is only one way you can achieve happiness. It can't be all 'of COURSE she's much better now, she has a perfect nose.'
I hate my own nose, and I worry about the size of my ass constantly. Seriously, I may have great tits but my backside should have tail-lights. I worry about it. A lot.
And yet I do nothing about it. I think it's called laziness. Or perhaps, there just isn't enough pressure, not enough assumption that I'm monstrously disproportionate to make me feel like I should get help immediately.
Men do like curves. River said it right. Fashion likes skin and bones- and slim girls are sexy, too. Girls are sexy in general.
There's a saying in Polish- Każda potwora znajdzie amatora. Literally: Every monster will find an admirer. Meaning, there is a man both for the sexiest star of them all, and a man for the fat-ass with a bad haircut. And, certainly, a man for every shade of grey in between the two.