I had a face-lift last week, and now I’m trying to figure out the best cover story so nobody will know.
My nurse suggested the taxi partition whack. I came out of surgery with a half-dozen Steri-Strips across my nose, a Jack Nicholson “Chinatown” look, and the nurse said she’d had a patient once who actually had slammed into a taxi partition and looked just like me.
I tried that for a few days, but I wasn’t really comfortable with it. It raised a serious question: Why is it better to present myself as an idiot who doesn’t wear a seatbelt than somebody who got a little work done because I hated my neck? What is this ridiculous bias against cosmetic surgery? Am I going to besmirch the entire taxi industry because I am desperate for a cover story?
Anyway, there are scarves.
Excuse me, I have an I.M. from a devoted fan:
Joyce, you vapid, self-absorbed, car-loving, coyote-indifferent elitist; there are people who are unable to afford lifesaving medical care, and you do this. This really is a problem of the 1 percent.
