It occurs to me that y’all may find a couple of things I said previously to be inconsistent. Let me explain. I think Oprah, and others who encourage cosmetic surgery, are doing their audience a disservice. I especially think that describing an untested medical procedure–one done for purely cosmetic reasons–as do-it-on-your-lunch-hour easy-peasy, is immoral. For some unfathomable reason, Oprah has a huge audience that is eager to take her every word as gospel truth, and she’s making giant buckets of money when she doles out advice. That’s an awesome power to wield, and by using it to pimp cosmetic surgery, she is abusing it. That, I think, is evil.
On the other hand, we have the consumer end of the spectrum. First, these sorts of choices–while I tend to think they are made by people who have been manipulated by folks like Oprah–are deeply personal. I think it is unfortunate that cosmetic surgery has become ubiquitous, and that in all too many cases, it is seen as something that is necessary. But, I don’t think there is anything morally wrong with having cosmetic surgery.
Second, the case I referenced yesterday involved reconstructive surgery, which is a whole ‘nother kettle of fishes. The woman who had the face transplant procedure had lost a large portion of her face when she was attacked by her dog. She had trouble talking and eating, and the surgery will, hopefully, rectify that.
In other news, I went to game night at some friends’ house. It was well worth braving sleet, freezing rain, and snow, in order to attend. I offered to drive (my neighbor went, too), and as I was preparing to leave, I thought about what had possessed me to volunteer to drive to Bloomington (a 50 mile round trip) in such craptacular weather–for the second time that day! What on earth was I thinking?! I’ve always hated driving. It makes me nervous to be piloting a hurtling box of doom and destruction. It creeps me right the hell out. But, lately I’ve been volunteering to do pretty much all the carpool driving. Am I on crack? Maybe. Mostly, though, I think it’s a matter of having developed an obsessive-compulsive, control-freakish need to be in charge of the car. I find that I really, really, really do not want to be a passenger. Driving isn’t my favorite thing to do, but it beats not driving.
red paper boat 