Cafe Hitch-hike

2021-07-15

The most beautiful thing to do

Greetings from your favorite bi-polar diarist! Ok, I shouldn't laugh about that, though I admit my emotions can really get into hyperdrive until I work at reigning them in.

I was going to go in for some cosmetic surgery soon. It's completely vanity, and then I got conscious when I was dating Huck because he was naturally lean and only slightly taller than me (I'm on the tall side and curvy). My metabolism has taken a dive and it's harder to lose the weight nowadays. I did manage to lose most of the weight I gained since March. The surgery, however, was also me refusing the fact that I am pushing 50, and that I live in a region where the clothes fly off everyone once the weather hits 78 degrees (and I admittedly kind of like doing that).

I really didn't get anything better in terms of romance or relationships when I was thinner or after my previous cosmetic surgery. Yeah, so I rocked some clothes a bit better and I felt more confident. It really didn't bring me additional love, adoration, or anything like that. If anything, a couple beaus complained I was too skinny at a certain point. One touched me differently after the surgery; I remembered it being more sumptuous before so perhaps he liked the thickness more. I talked with guys whose former partners had the surgery and they all said their ex- didn't need it at all; they almost looked a little bummed that they did it. Even guys who were slimmer than me never seemed to have a problem with my ample bumps and curves. I told a couple men about my pending surgery, and they both gave me looks that said why? or huh?.

I remembered when I was with my sisters in Clearwater last fall, and when we all changed into our bathing suits. I was in a room full of women from age 35 and to 67 (our mother), and the sight was more than an eyeful. The pear shapes, the hips... I saw stretch marks, especially on the thighs, bellies and breasts (and I was the only one who did not carry children, but I do have some). Their bodies had other scars; I saw a couple caesarian section scars. Some of the women also had tattoos, usually with names of their kids or partners.

I remember sensing immense beauty in all of that. It may sound like a Dove soap commercial, but I must say really! I'm not a man and I don't view a woman's body the same as they would, but I'm sure their men were very enthusiastic to see them, even with the scars, stretch marks, and tattoos. I imaged, briefly, seeing them be lovingly touched and caressed by their men before intimacy (and my imagination stopped right there). It wasn't hard to imagine, and though it didn't necessarily arouse me, it made me smile.

If anything, the women looked so much more alive to me. Their bodies were records of the people they loved, the children they carried, and the lives they lived. It occurred to me that maybe men also see or sense that, too, when they are together. Maybe it makes them savor them more.

I remembered going to the beach last February with my friend for our chats, and she took a pic for me to send to Huck. I wore my 2-piece bikini. I looked at it and I actually liked how it looked even if I thought my belly and thighs were bigger than usual. My belly gave my body a teardrop shape, and I looked-- like a woman.

I could delay the surgery by a couple of months or so until I feel a certain way. However, something told me, 'why don't we spend the damn money on the new kitchen cabinetry already, and don't we want a new dishwasher? You'll be so happy and it will lift the place so much!' I actually felt happier with thinking about that.

I then thought about the awful pain I'd have to go through. I've had this surgery twice already, and they were the most physically painful things I had to endure. First of all, cosmetic surgery is deceivingly risky and extremely painful. You go under under full anaesthesia, which is knocking on St. Pete's gate. There's other effects they never tell you. I lost a lot of flexibility in one of my legs after one because I think a nerve must had been severed. The healing is slow, it looked like my body bruised like it was smacked with 2x4 boards, and what got surgery was numb for almost 3 months.

I then laid on my side last night and touched my side. I felt a stringy mass under my skin, something I never noticed or felt until after I had the surgery. As my tissues healed, certain parts felt soft but like there was something tough and stringy underneath. I had to ask myself if I really wanted to do all of that again, and in the name of my silly vanity.

I do remembering thinking, after my second time around: 'I just mutilated my body.'

Ah, yes... the 2 surgeries are stories about my body. They may be stories about vanity, self-loathing, and a desire to transform it into something that I both thought would be more acceptable and also something I thought would be nice. Maybe the surgery brought a certain confidence to me, but I now see (especially at this age) that maybe just being me and bringing it all forward would probably be the most beautiful and physically loving thing I could do for myself and a partner.

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