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Getting Work Done
Mar. 8th, 2016 08:46 amYesterday I went to a cosmetic surgeon to fix my face.
The experience wasn't that bad, and there was no weird medical gaslighting. I went in, and I was like, "I have scar tissue all down my right cheek." The doctor was like, "You sure do. Give me thirty minutes and I'll have it taken care of." There was no "have you tried drinking more water" or any such bullshit, which was refreshing.
While he and the nurse were working, the doctor explained what he was doing, in the process giving me an overview of facial muscles and skin structure. I steered the conversation to the topic of what constitutes beauty, and he started talking about symmetry and asymmetry. To make a long story short, for substantially less than the cost of a month's rent and about a week's worth of healing time, I could make my face subtly but tangibly different. The whole thing felt very posthuman, like I was doing character customization on myself.
Since my face ended up bloody and bandaged and bruised, I took the rest of the day off from work. I walked down to Rock Creek Park, where I sat on a bench and chain smoked and watched the beefcake Secret Service people jog by as I thought about what my life would be like if I were less unattractive.
It's a shame I can't just pay someone to fix my garbage personality.
The experience wasn't that bad, and there was no weird medical gaslighting. I went in, and I was like, "I have scar tissue all down my right cheek." The doctor was like, "You sure do. Give me thirty minutes and I'll have it taken care of." There was no "have you tried drinking more water" or any such bullshit, which was refreshing.
While he and the nurse were working, the doctor explained what he was doing, in the process giving me an overview of facial muscles and skin structure. I steered the conversation to the topic of what constitutes beauty, and he started talking about symmetry and asymmetry. To make a long story short, for substantially less than the cost of a month's rent and about a week's worth of healing time, I could make my face subtly but tangibly different. The whole thing felt very posthuman, like I was doing character customization on myself.
Since my face ended up bloody and bandaged and bruised, I took the rest of the day off from work. I walked down to Rock Creek Park, where I sat on a bench and chain smoked and watched the beefcake Secret Service people jog by as I thought about what my life would be like if I were less unattractive.
It's a shame I can't just pay someone to fix my garbage personality.
