Finding Inner Peace Through Plastic Surgery?

I’ve read a number of items lately about post-baby surgeries, tummy tucks and boob lifts, and the lure of fixing yourself up to get back your pre-baby body. I know people who have had procedures and are truly happy with the results. I know people who want these procedures but can’t afford them. And I know people who wouldn’t dream of having anything done to their bodies.

My immediate reaction when I read about the rise in post-baby surgeries is one of sadness. What are we telling our daughters (and sons) about aging or about becoming a mother? What are we saying to our kids if we continue to endorse the idea that to feel good inside we need to look good on the outside?

And I wonder whether a post-surgery, pre-baby body provides lasting happiness. What is the next fix as the other natural effects of aging take place? Where does it end?

I guess I’m just struggling to understand it. When I gave birth to my daughter, I vowed to honour my body. I spent enough of my late teens and early twenties wasting time on body image and self-criticism. Now I see the radiant self-assurance of my 6-year-old daughter as she dives into sports and activities with complete abandon and pure physical confidence. She is not self-conscious of her body. She lives in it. She owns it. And I want so badly to protect this confidence, for her to hold on to it for the rest of her life.

At what point do we as women lose that confidence and connection with ourselves?

The reality is, we're human. We age. Joints ache, muscles once toned may sag (gasp!). But along with aging come beautiful insights, the spiritual wealth of lived experiences, and a lifetime of memories and perspective.

And what if we spent more time focusing on finding peace in our everyday lives, being good to others, or searching for happiness and confidence within ourselves? Are these things harder to achieve and do they require greater emotional and mental energies than lying on a table?

Can we really make peace with ourselves by going under the knife?

I really don’t know the answers. I’m just full of questions. And sadness.