Apr 28 2008
Signs of the times
My friend Stephe over at Dynastic Queen, pointed to this Newsweek article about a Kids’ Book on Plastic Surgery, designed to answer children’s question about their mother’s plastic surgery.
Naturally, it has a happy ending: mommy winds up “even more” beautiful than before, and her daughter is thrilled.
My reaction is as strong as Stephe’s, especially after having gone through some of the picture book: a slack-jawed amazement at how far we’ve come to prize the shell we live with and our willingness to pass on that message to children.
My next reaction was: give me a break. You need a book to tell your child you’ve had you nose done? How about a little one-on-one talk? Is spending time talking to your child gone out the window as well?
4 responses so far
This is a further article of evidence pointing towards the ‘instant gratification’ society we live in. As far as the book goes, it’s further proof of our remote control lives. Push that, turn that, buy that: you dont actually have to do anything now (ie explain why your going into hospital for a nose job), just buy the book and give it to the kid….they’ll understand.
So right. I feel like giving them a whack on the side of the head. Wake up!
The little boy in the article telling his mom her stomach looked pruny and ugly (or something to that effect) really pissed me off. My son, as a little boy, valued me just as I was. He loved my flabby tummy as a part of me, particularly as that was the part he’d grown in and been nurtured in. (And put it this way–he wouldn’t have gotten away with insulting me, as this kid probably did. I’m his mother, not his friend, or his pal, and as such I will be respected and he would get educated on how to treat people.)
Even now, as an adult, and while growing up, J.T. takes great pride in introducing me to everyone he knows as his mom, and showing how much we love each other, no matter where I happen to be sagging or bagging. When I lose some weight, or tone something up with exercise, he supports and congratulates me, of course. But he loves me unconditionally as I am, because of all the sacrifices I made to raise him. And he’d come down like an anvil on anyone who disrespected me because of my bulges.
So there.
*that part of the rant over*
And shouldn’t kiddie have a more realistic picture of surgery anyway, that mommy will be hurting for a little while, but then she’ll be okay? And that this is not some walk in the park, we must be careful? There are few things more sad to see than an overly sheltered in a bubble child who is suddenly faced with something bad in life and has NO idea how to handle it, because s/he wasn’t properly prepared.
Couldn’t have said it better myself. Thanks, Stephe.