It has nothing to do with having low self-esteem, or a poor body image. In fact, I’d say that I am self-confident. But I’m not going to deny that I would like to liposuction my entire body if I had the chance. It would be nice to be able to fit in with the rest of America, in with what the media and fashion deem as beautiful, as attractive. My "need" for liposuction is more apparent than that of many girls, and boys for that matter.

That doesn’t stop almost every girl that I talk to from being self-conscious, and to some extent self-hating. I walk through the halls hearing conversations like "do these pants make me look fat?" or "I’m getting fat" or "No, I’m not eating today, I’ve gotten too fat in the past weeks." I turn to see who has uttered these hateful words, only to see girls in short skirts, with flat stomachs to be the ones complaining.

Days at school, listening to underweight underclassmen tire the "plus-sized" spirit out. Home, especially mine, provides comfort, and a warm brownie.

That is, until the TV gets turned on. I sit in front of the TV watching it flicker. The images are of newly-beautiful women. Their beauty was not easily obtained, nor was it naturally given to them. They had a suck or a lift, a tuck or an implant. Basically they had all of what I wanted done to myself done to them. They had become the beauty that I always wished for myself. Key word being always, it was in the past.

I would love to have every last cell of excess fat sucked from my body. I’d love even more to have my stomach tucked, and my breasts lifted. But I wouldn’t go as far as to say that I would get it done or that I would ever even think about it if I knew that I didn’t need it. Thoughts run through my head. The stream seems to be neverending, and meanders from side to side.

Is plastic surgery ever really needed? How can you put a guideline on who would need it? Can I fit into that guideline? Can I pick people who DON’T fit the guidelines? This girl or that girl claim to be getting breast implants the day they turn 18. I wish I could get a reduction or a lift today. This shirt really needs to be washed, that boy at school today had really dirty shoes. He could use some plastic surgery, some fake muscles or something. Who could like something plastic like that? Do we really have "plastics" at our school? I think so-and-so would be the most likely to get cosmetic surgery.

I catch myself shaking off the thoughts. I look down at the remote in my hand. I flip the station only to find that another local or national broadcast has been littered with advertisements for their respective rendition of "The Swan," "Extreme Makeover," "I Want a Famous Face," or "A Makeover Story." Each show flashes images of ugly ducklings, those made fun of the most due to their appearances, and then a beautiful person, model material. I compare myself to each of the "before" knowing that I’m not teased, and not ugly. But the words run through my head that I need that, I want to have that experience. It’s ridiculous. The stations got exactly what they wanted out of me; the urge to abandon who I am, and become who the world wants me to be. I can only imagine what that means for the weak of heart.

The weak of heart or the skinny girls who don’t need the layer of fat between their skin and the muscle sucked out. Professionals pound into our heads that America is getting "fatter." Well, have they ever looked at high school girls? I don’t see them getting fatter, I don’t see them eating more, or even just putting on a few healthy pounds. I see them everyday watching what they eat, then watching makeover shows that encourage drastic measures to fix something that isn’t broken.

I hate watching what I eat, but I love watching makeover shows. It wouldn’t be my house if I didn’t walk into it looking for freshly baked cookies, brownies, or some other treat. Maybe after all is said and done the girls who don’t have enough confidence in themselves should be the ones who are, more or less, punished with having to get intensive surgeries.

I might be able to use the surgeries, but I don’t want them. I like being a "fat kid." It’s who I am, without it I wouldn’t be myself.

So there isn’t a need for any sucks, any tucks, any lifts, or any implants. I like my body, my spirit and my brownies just the way they are.

 

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