Confessions of a Plastic Surgeon's Wife
So I went to my husband. "I was waiting for you to figure out that the gain wasn't worth the pain," he said. I quit the collagen, because I figured if he was trying this hard to deny me what he thought I didn't need, I wouldn't push it.
For years my friends were going to David for facelifts, to have their eyes done, forehead lifts, you name it. And I would ask him, "Do you think I need what my pals had?" He would always say no, that he'd throw me out of his office. For years and years, that's the response I got. And then one Saturday, when I was 56—I'm 59 now—we were standing in front of the sink in the bathroom and I said to him, "Do you think I should have my face done?" And he said, "Only if you think you need it."
The first thing I did was to look again at my face.
David has an extraordinarily keen eye. So his not wanting to improve me had meant that I didn't need improvement. Looking in the mirror that day made me wonder what was wrong with me that wasn't wrong before. While I was shocked at his response, I can't say I was distressed, because I immediately assumed David would fix me. I remember thinking how soon could I rearrange my calendar so I could have the work done.