Last night I watched one of the most irritating documentaries I've ever seen. It was called Youth Knows No Pain. Directed by Mitch McCabe, the daughter of a plastic surgeon, it purported to be all about society's fear of aging, but basically showcased a bunch of neurotic freakshows and the frightening measures they take to remain youthful.
One of the high/lowlights was a segment about a plastic surgeon and his busty young Playboy type daughter. (I bet you though I was going to say "wife," didn't you? More on her in a minute.) Daddy Dearest proudly shows the filmmaker a nearly naked centerfold of his daughter as her mom—his wife—looks on proudly. We gradually find out that all is not well in paradise. Ten years or so earlier, Plastic Papa left his wife to go screw some of the models he was operating on. He came back and presumably operated on his wife so he could have the woman he loved inside the body of the women he lusted after. But you know what—when you're 65 and have a wrinkle-free face, inflated boobs, Farrah hair and giant fishlips, you don't look young. You look like a sad wax dummy.
Speaking of dummies . . . another lowlight was a segment with bloggers Julia Allison and Mary Rambin—both in their twenties—frenemying each other into cosmetic injections neither needed. The two marvel over 26-year-old Rambin's forehead wrinkles (which are minimal and seem to only appear when she crinkles her forehead) and Allison's imaginary nasolabial folds.
A Ken-doll looking plastic surgeon named Bobby Buka administers the injections while his assistant looks on, rolling her eyes at the ladies. Truthfully, they both look a bit older than they are, but that's only because they wear way too much makeup and dress like mall store mannequins. They'd benefit much more from a visit with Trinny & Sooz, than they would from spending any more dough pumping poison into their faces.
Oh, and the illustration I used for this entry—that was inspired by Allison's comment that women come "with an expiration date." As I've got quite a few years on her, I figure I've hit mine. Those spiderwebs in the picture—that's what passes for pubes these days. It's just a slow walk to the grave from here on in. Sigh.
Throughout the rest of the film we meet a guy who's had a bunch of surgeries to look more like Jack Nicholson (WTF? Why?!?!), and watch as the filmmaker becomes more and more obsessed with keeping age at bay, until she's also letting people stick needles and lasers into her skin. The only relatable character in the piece is a sad, but very sweet-seeming woman named Sherry Mecom. When we first meet her, she's at the top of her game—on her fourth marriage, looking sassy and happy, despite all her neuroses. A year later and she's gained weight and desperately bargaining with the surgeon to throw in a freebie nasolabial injection with the botox and lip augmentation he's performing. It was like watching a junkie bargain with their dealer—very sad.
This wholly depressing hour and a half of television made me glad that I didn't grow up relying on my looks for affirmation. (Good thing, too!) Even though I'm not thrilled about getting older, it makes aging a whole lot less fraught.
