Plastic Lips To Go With My Earrings

I went to dinner tonight with some family members. We shared a round table, and we covered everything from Time versus Quality to the raising of chickens, as well as the finite number of a petabyte (1,125,899,906,842,624) (Don't let that number scare you.)

I was summoned by someone asking why I had been posting so much this week on this bloggy thing. (Just so you know, when I am eating slightly grilled marinated squares of tofu don't bother me, because I am in a good place.) But I answered anyway, saying that I am just like the next American, I want more, more, MORE! So I blog more. And maybe I am going to keep it up, and can I go back to my tofu now?

You know what I want more of, don't you? I want more lip coverage on my face! As is, my lips are sufficient for my day-to-day routine (smiling, kissing, lip syncing) but imagine them with some fat injections! Holy crap! It's like SMILING, KISSING, LIP SYNCING! I want more, more, MORE lips. And don't think I haven't thought about stealing fat from off my ample chest to share the love with my mouth gates (mouth gates! I just made that up!) My chest wouldn't even miss it. Certainly not the way I am eating tofu these days.

You know what? Last week I was blessed with a fever blister on my bottom lip. Fever blisters do 2 things:

1.) Cause lips to swell

2.) Hurt like a broken heart on a hot Saturday night.

So there I was with a swollen lip for a week and you'd thought I was a finished contestant on "Extreme Make-Over" my lips were so sexy. Not sexy when I'd laughed and they'd crack causing tender bleeding. Not sexy because of the boogerous scab dwelling on my bottom lip. But big puffy lips? So hot and sexy deliciousness unto me. Honey, it was worth the pain.

Chup says definitely not to getting my lips done. He says "Your lips don't lie." And I say, "No Honey, it's your 'Hips don't lie' and stop quoting Shakira." Then he says...well, you get the point. The point being that Chup says I can't talk about getting my lips done anymore (but he didn't say I couldn't BLOG ABOUT IT!!!)

You know what stops me from sneaking out in the middle of the night for a scandalous rendezvous with a Plastic Surgery Clinic on the wrong side of town? This quote from Jeffery R. Holland,

In terms of preoccupation with self and a fixation on the physical, this is more than social insanity; it is spiritually destructive, and it accounts for much of the unhappiness women, including young women, face in the modern world. And if adults are preoccupied with appearance—tucking and nipping and implanting and remodeling everything that can be remodeled—those pressures and anxieties will certainly seep through to children.

So sadly, no bloated lips for me. Not ever. In fact, no injections anywhere. I am just going to...gulp...age.

But we can still discuss it right? I mean, you can tell me your deepest darkestest plastic surgery fantasies can't you? Will you?

But before you do, will you so kindly read my favorite new poem "Angels of Mercy" regarding the conundrum of a Relief Society President and a Breast Augmentation? It is written by one of my favorite Mormon writers, Darlene Young for Segullah's latest edition about the body.

Click here to read the poem.

Then please do come back and discuss, discuss, DISCUSS!

Kisses, weak kisses,

c jane

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