Marie Tussaud was born on this day in 1761. She was, according to The Bastion of All Knowledge (Wikipedia), a French-born artist of German descent. And you can have a moment of silence in her honor today if you, like me, have ever enjoyed her legacy, Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum.
I took the opportunity to study abroad in college, mainly because I was struggling personally following a devastating car accident, but also because who doesn’t want to travel? Though I looked into a Latin program in Italy and an archaeological expedition in the Middle East (oh, if only I were a trust fund baby…), going to England was the most practical and financially feasible option.
Now, I ran out if money in short order and barely did anything until my mom and her friend came out to visit, or rather, came out to pay for my food and drinks and admission to all the great tourist attractions in London for a week. And, of course, we hit up Madame Tussaud’s. What a trip!
These days, thinking of wax sculptures makes me think of plastic surgery, not because I want it (I don’t), but because a friend recently mentioned how passionately she wanted to get some work done. Now, as a result of that previously mentioned car accident, I had the “pleasure” of visiting a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon. At the time, I had a knack for seeing a doctor for a specific problem, only to have him recommend action for some completely unrelated “problem” I didn’t care about. So I knew I was in for something with this visit. I was there for a consultation about whether scars on my lower lip and chin from the accident could be corrected. Nothing major and you wouldn’t even notice them if you saw me, but my lawyer was trying to establish a monetary basis for my claim against the driver. Needless to say, as the doctor was examining my chin and lip, he asked how I felt about the flaps of skin around my nose.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.”
If you’ve ever seen me, I think you would agree that I can honestly say there are no weird flaps around my nose. But the doctor insisted he could remove them for me. Ha! Thanks, but no thanks.
The upshot (for me, not my lawyer trying to build a case) was that my plump lower lip (he was really bummed he couldn’t offer me Botox) covered the scar better than anything he could possibly do to lessen it. Haha! Maybe that’s why I love the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills so much. They’re my people!
Anyways, even though there are tons of things I could do, I don’t think I ever would. If I had the $$$ to spend on procedures, well, I’d rather spend it on fancy clothes, bags, shoes, makeup and hair appointments to make myself feel better, than on going under the knife.
How do you feel about plastic surgery? Would you get anything done?