Barbie ♀
02 April, 2015
Rail-thin body, tan legs, platinum blonde hair, big boobs, and a button nose. Check, check, check, check, oh, crap...
My sophomore year of college, I was far from emotionally stable. I was obsessed, and I do mean obsessed, with my appearance. I was falling short in the self-confidence arena, trying my all to make up for it with looks. I was an extremely picky eater (but that's another story altogether) and was a bit of a shopaholic. The idea of a guy not finding me attractive was personally alarming; I was deperate for the love of other's because my self-love tank was dangerously empty.
Back to the checklist above, I wanted to do everything in my power to look outwardly beautiful. I was ridiculously thin, I was at the beach tanning daily, and my boobs were generally nonexistant (that's what happens when you eat air for breakfast, fyi), but, nothing Victoria's Secret couldn't help. The one thing I was lacking? A Barbie button nose.
I had harnessed a complex about my nose since middle school, having been poked fun of for having a noticeable bump. As if middle school isn't hard enough, I'd look at myself in the mirror, thinking no one could possibly like someone with my nose. I asked for a nose job for my 8th grade graduation, to which my parent's died laughing. "Yeah, ask us when you're 20, Paige!" Shoulders slumped, I held on to that hope: once I was 20, I WOULD.
The year I turned 20 was the year of my appearance obsession. I wanted sex-appeal, and a bump on my nose was sure as heck not going to stand in my way.
Calling my dad on the phone a few weeks before my birthday, I told him what I wanted. "Dad, I've thought about it long and hard. I'm an adult now, and I want a nose job. I'm already out here in LA, so why not get it done in Beverly Hills along with all the celebrities? It's really now or never."
After a long silence, he quietly responded, "Well, okay. Let's have a doctor consultation and go from there."
Mouth hitting the floor, I had no words. "Uh, wait, what? Really? Seriously?!"
"Just set it up Paige, I'll fly out in a few weeks."
Researching the best plastic surgeons on Rodeo, Dr. Kim was the obvious choice. He'd done all the Real Housewives, he'd do great on me. A few of my girlfriends at Pepperdine had gotten plastic surgery before, to which they told me the pain was minuscule compared to the awesome long-term results. "Get ready for a brand new you," my girlfriend told me. Quite the statement, eh?
Walking into Dr. Kim's office, the waiting room was decorated with blinding chrome and bright purple furniture, pictures of topless Playboy Bunnies with signatures ("thank you Dr. K!") draping the walls, and club music blaring through the speakers hidden in a gaudy pink plant. We were approached by the thinnest woman I'd ever seen in my life, asking us to take a seat to wait for the doc. Flipping through some magazines, my dad and I exchanged glances, telepathically hinting the same thing: "what. in. the. world."
After forever, Dr. Kim poked his head from the hallway and motioned us to follow. Taking a seat in the consultation room, Dr. Kim looked bored, asking what we needed to know. "Um, well, could you explain your procedure?" (I mean obviously, right?)
Grabbing a piece of blank computer paper, Dr. Kim drew a circle, which he said was my head, and a sideways V - with a squiggle in the middle - aka my nose. He then drew a line through the squiggle, saying the procedure would get rid of my nose bump.
"Um, okay, yeah, that wasn't exactly rocket science. Don't you guys take pictures of her and show us over a computer what it would look like?" my dad questioned.
"Eh, no. We do that sometimes, but I've got a surgery to get to. On that note, I gotta bounce, but hope to see ya soon." And he was gone. "That. Was weird." I said. "Yeah, bit of a jerk..." dad replied.
Heading to his assistant's office, of whom was just as thin as the receptionist, we were given the price-tag: $8,000, sometimes more depending on complications.
"Well, hun. It's expensive, this guy seems like a prick, but it's your birthday and we could always get someone else. It's your body, and it's your life. I leave it in your hands, I know lots of girls out here in LA have plastic surgery, so you just follow your heart. You know your mom and I love you no matter what."
Telling the assistant we didn't infact want the appointment that had opened up for later that day, we walked out of the office. I told my dad I had a lot to think about. Boy oh boy, did I ever.
I wanted it, of course. I wanted to be pretty. I wanted to be liked. I wanted to be Barbie. But, deep in my gut, I felt sick, and not just because I'd starved myself for 6 months. Having met that doctor, of whom I did not necessarily like or trust, I couldn't picture myself getting it done, atleast not in the coming months. Calling my dad, I shared the news: "I decided - and I can't believe I'm saying this - but I don't want it. I don't want a nose job." Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, he congratulated me, telling me my heart had never looked more beautiful.
Funny, in middle-school, the worst part about looking in the mirror was seeing my nose. Today, washing my hands at Sip, a favorite lunch spot of mine, I glanced at myself in the mirror, flashbacks running through my mind. The one difference? Today, my nose was (and is) my favorite part about looking in the mirror.
I may not be a Barbie. I may not have the cute bunnie-slope curvy nose I envied for so many years, but I'm beautiful. Not beautiful like you, beautiful like ME. I am "beautifully and wonderfully made" in the image of God, made exactly how He wants me. He placed me (and you!) on this Earth for one reason: to glorify Him by serving and loving those around us. How can we do that when we're so self-absorbed in our personal appearance? Impossible, frankly.
Charm is deceitful, and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. Proverbs 31:30
Looking back, I was the ugliest version of myself sophomore year. Helping other's was nowhere on my radar. I was completely focused on my looks, ignoring the needs of my friends and peers, constantly fishing for compliments. The times in my life I've been the most beautiful, undoubtedly, have been when I've thrown my obsessive ways to the side, serving food to the homeless, bringing soup to a sick friend in bed, or leading a Bible study to young girls.
Pretty crazy too, the following year, although I had gained about 15 pounds and wore my hair extensions less, I had more boys after me than ever. Go figure, right? Men really do look for women with pure hearts.
Ladies, plastic surgery is not inherently bad. Really, it's fine. But, make sure you go in with the right motives, thinking "will this help me or hurt me in the long run? Will it help benefit my testimony to point others to the Creator of the world? Or will it make me more self-obsessed than ever?"
Trust in Christ, because you really are beautiful just as you are, hun. ❤
