Yesterday morning I ventured into the ladies room, as was necessary at the time. There was a group of women standing just inside the door, apparently waiting for the large handicapped stall to open. I proceeded into a stall after making sure there wasn't a line (you never know, even though the other 5 stalls were hanging open…could have been some reason they were staying away). I hear the other stall door open and the lone occupant making her way to the sink. So far, all seems normal.
The 3 women that were huddled inside the entrance got all excited (squealy even) and descended upon the big stall. Here is what I witnessed…
Disembodied voice 1: Let's see!
Disembodied voice 2: Want to touch them? They're still hard.
Disembodied voice 3: You haven't started massaging them yet?
Disembodied voice 2: I'm supposed to start that tonight.
Disembodied voice 1: They look great!
And then I don't know who's saying what (nor do I care - I feel like I'm intruding on their privacy by using the restroom for it's intended purpose!), but the general conversation went on about how much two of them were happy with their boob jobs, and the other one, who hadn't had one, has a consultation scheduled for the end of this month. Oh, and they're financed at a rate of 10%. And mass compliments - oh, you don't need any work done! No? I'm all saggy since giving birth and you have no idea! Well, I can't tell. Do you always wear a padded bra? Oh always! Oh how happy we all are with our fake bodies! (Argh…)
I have to realize that no, that is NOT normal. It's not, is it? Please tell me it's not. I will never understand the allure of elective surgery. And the scary part…the one who had just gotten the surgery went to high school with my co-worker.
And this whole scene gave me a flashback of a bbq I went to at my boss's house last summer (with the ex). My boss had just had "enhancement surgery." We (the employees) all knew about it. My ex walked through the house to grab a drink and came outside with a look of utter confusion/horror on his face. He looked at me and whispered, "everyone that's not out here is in the living room feeling your boss's breasts." I laughed and said, "that's because they're new." I of course then made sure he didn't want to go back in to check them out (the relationship might have ended sooner if he had...).
I guess I just think it's sad that people are so unhappy with their bodies that they will resort to expensive surgery to change them. I think it says something about society. (And not a good thing.)