Paper Maiche

Have you ever seen Heidi Montag in her skivvies? She's a fright. There are shots in People magazine: Heidi in her underwear, Heidi inked up, Heidi with staples in her head post plastic surgery. She is intent on perpetually enlarging her breasts, in the hopes of one day using them as hot air balloons to float her up up and away. I shouldn't worry about it. Why do I care if she has 12.4i4545 plastic surgeries? But I do. I'm disgusted by the procedures we put ourselves through. We're poking and plucking and tweezing and squeezing and in the end, we're shells made of medical glue. A woman's outward struggle for beauty is never beautiful, sad but true. When Miss Montag has grandchildren puttering around her room, they won't stumble upon black and white photographs of their lovely matriarch but will instead leaf through a recovery journal that details a journey similar to Frankenstein's. I shouldn't care. But I do.