The Plastic Surgery Debate: Spiritual Exploration in the Age of Cosmetic Surgery

Welcome to the Great Plastic Surgery Debate, where the pressure to look forever young meets our desire to be true to our spiritual selves head-on.

| November/December 2013

My friend Wendy has always been the envy of our group of women friends. Willowy-tall, she has legs that go on forever, naturally blond hair, and a face like a model’s. Yet when she turned 50, she began to notice those little flaws that vex every woman of a certain age. In her case, droopy eyelids became the focus of intense dissatisfaction.

“Look how this lid makes it hard to open my eye all the way,” she said a few years ago, as I drew close. “I’m thinking of getting surgery to correct it.”

I was taken aback. Wendy was gifted with so many physical charms, and to risk going under the knife for one tiny imperfection seemed vain. Why meddle with nature’s course?

And yet soon after, I felt the sting of judgment myself in the office of my dermatologist, an opinionated, hilarious gay man. For 15 years we had bonded over my precancerous sun spots. But on this particular day, he looked into my face and frowned. “You know, I can take care of those crow’s-feet,” he said. “And you might want to consider some lipo for your tummy.”

Indignant, I replied: “Why would I want to do that?”

He smiled: “Um, so you could get a date? And look less matronly?” He hugged me as if to say, just kidding! But his words stung. As I passed through his posh waiting room, I stared at the perfect beauties waiting for their next Botox fix with a bit of scorn . . . and a hint of jealousy. And in turn, they seemed to look at me with curiosity. Look—a woman of 60 who’s had no work done! Doesn’t she care how she looks?