When I was en route a few months ago to New Orleans, I had to take a plane from LAX. Now, I’m from California so I understand how shallow/materialistic parts of this state can be.
So let me take you back to this unexpected breast implant consultation.
It was my turn to walk through the body scanner, the TSA agent stopped me and asked me to go back again to get rescanned because the scanner didn’t recognize my boobs. If I had been anywhere else in the country, I probably would’ve shrugged it off as a mechanical error but we are in Los Angeles. The town where “fake it til you make it” is taken literally.
That’s when I started thinking, imagine if surgeons tried to capitalize on this to make some extra cash. It would be such a great scam! You could target us vulnerable female travelers who are just trying to get to their next destination. We walk through the scanner, all confident because we are onto our next big journey and feel like we can conquer the entire world. An agent pulls us to the side and we immediately think they’re going to tell us that we are probably a terrorist. But it’s even worse, instead, they yell for anyone within earshot to hear, “the scanner couldn’t pick up your boobs cause they’re small, so you need to walk back through!” Now this time when we walk back through, they don’t pat us down, no no, instead, they provide us with the number to the best plastic surgeon Hollywood has to offer! How lucky are we?!
The movies that teach us how at Christmas time only skinny blonde women deserve to find love. But the downside to all this plastic surgery is we are completely unrecognizable. Does it even matter if we are these huge Hallmark channel stars if no one even knows it’s us? Well, we can always buy a new family and friends with all of our new riches and celebrity status. But it does take time to make friends as an adult. So I guess this holiday season we will sit with our riches and new faces alone, which is ironic because we’re loved by every housewife in the midwest.
Or there’s always option two: Never call that incredible surgeon, get on your plane, and love yourself for who you are.
Did my imagination possibly go a little too far in analyzing why the body scanner couldn’t pick up my boobs in its dumb little computer? Sure! But that’s what happens when you spend all day traveling on little sleep. All logic goes completely out the window and Hollywood’s greatest body image scam seems the most plausible.
Maybe I need to work on some self-love for myself. These crazy thoughts probably mean something about my insecurities with my B cups, right? Whatever, I’m fine!
Well, that’s all for now!