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I have a friend who's obsessed with plastic surgery. She's had so much work done; I don't even recognize her anymore. I saw her at the mall, and I thought she was a mannequin at a high-end store. I was about to ask her for fashion advice when she blinked, and I realized it was my friend. But here's the dilemma with plastic surgery – how do you know when to stop? It's like playing Jenga with your face. You pull one piece, and suddenly, you're reconstructing the whole tower. I'm waiting for the day when people start getting plastic surgery for their fingerprints because, you know, uniqueness is overrated.
And then there's the pressure to look young forever. It's like society's telling us, "If your high school reunion photos don't look like a casting call for a teen drama, you've failed." I don't know about you, but I want to age gracefully – like a fine wine or a well-maintained library book that nobody wants to return.
So, folks, remember, plastic surgery is a slippery slope. One day you're fixing your nose, and the next day you're debating whether your earlobes are too droopy. It's a facial rabbit hole, and I, for one, am not ready to fall in just yet.
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I was watching this documentary about plastic surgery, and they were talking about how people get these extreme makeovers. It's like time travel for your face. You go in looking like a '90s relic and come out looking like you just stepped off a spaceship from the future. But here's the catch – the future costs a lot of money. They say money can't buy happiness, but apparently, it can buy a new face, and that's pretty close. Imagine going back to your high school reunion, and everyone's like, "Is that you?" And you're like, "Yeah, it's me, just the upgraded version – now with fewer insecurities and more collagen."
But I've got to say, if I could time travel with plastic surgery, I'd go back to the '80s. I'd walk into a room, and people would be like, "Is that a time traveler or just someone who really loves shoulder pads?
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I recently met someone who had so much Botox; I couldn't tell if they were surprised, happy, or just trying to hail a cab. I mean, Botox is like the ultimate poker face. I asked her, "How do you express excitement?" And she goes, "Oh, I just raise my credit score. It's the only thing that goes up around here." But the thing about Botox is that it's not just for wrinkles; it's for life decisions too. You get Botox, and suddenly, you can't frown at your bad choices anymore. It's like, "Oops, I maxed out my credit card. Well, better raise my eyebrows in astonishment, because I can't physically frown!"
And then there's the frozen smile. You ever talk to someone with a frozen smile? It's like having a conversation with a mannequin. You're pouring your heart out, and they're just standing there, grinning like they're the Cheshire Cat. I'm waiting for them to blink twice if they need help.
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You know, I was thinking about getting some work done, you know, a little nip here, a little tuck there. So, I went to see a plastic surgeon. This guy was like the Michelangelo of noses. I told him, "Doc, I want the perfect nose, the kind that'll make people say, 'Wow, did she just get a nose job or is she just naturally stunning?'" And he goes, "Don't worry, I got you." So, he starts showing me these computer-generated images of what my new nose could look like. It was like picking a filter for your face in real life! I'm sitting there, scrolling through noses like I'm picking a new hairstyle on Instagram. "Hmm, should I go for the 'celebrity chic' or the 'girl-next-door' look?" It's like plastic surgery has turned into a high-stakes game of facial bingo.
Anyway, I ended up going with the "classic elegance" nose. But here's the thing, folks – you can't return a nose like you can return a pair of shoes. I tried, but apparently, it's a strict no-return policy. I guess I'm stuck with this nose, for better or for worse. At least I didn't go for the "experimental avant-garde" option. That one came with a complimentary clown wig.
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