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If I look like a woman who has been seeing the man of her dreams, I am. I’ve finally met someone who understands my needs and wants and secret desires and who makes me feel beautiful even when I’m naked with the lights on and the blinds up and the neighbors waving. I fell hard and fast, but not before doing a background check. While he didn’t have me at “hello,” he did have me at “my liposuction technique inexplicably results in what I call an invisible butt lift.” I swooned.
Fate drew me to Gerald H. Pitman, MD—fate and Dennis Gross, my dermatologist and oracle. A human Magic 8-Ball, Gross always has the answer. Like, if he’s injecting a pimple and I ask, “Do you think I’ll fall in love this year?” he’ll say, “Outlook good.” So when I told him I was researching liposuction methods for last June’s column on SmartLipo (a retarded procedure), he said I couldn’t write about lipo without first consulting Pitman, a fat-sucking pioneer (4,000 procedures and counting) who literally wrote the textbook: Liposuction and Aesthetic Surgery.
Months after interviewing him, my head is still filled with triple-X fantasies…wearing a swimsuit, buying jeans, ditching my Spanx! I find myself Googling him, casing his understated Upper East Side office, drunk-dialing his answering service.… Could it be that after years of saving myself I was ready to cross the Rubicon, bite the apple, do the deed? Was I really considering losing my plastic-surgery virginity?
My whole life I’ve been pear-shaped. The only way I could thin my lower half was by going to extremes. Speed, diet pills, liquid diets, starvation, barfation, over-exercise-ation—all ending in self-loathing lamentation. I gave it all up after college because the obsession was a full-time job, and I had to find employment that paid the rent. Besides, I got tired of my body begging me to let it be what it wanted to be—biggish. It would be great to tell you that I learned to love and accept and embrace my Weeble shape, but no. I didn’t. I don’t. I hope I never will. Because the next thing you know, I’ll be dyeing my own hair, wearing Cashmiracle sweaters and polyester pants, drinking beer out of a plastic cup, and screaming, “Bingo!” Another one of my dark fantasies.