A New Me

Dear Extreme Makeover Show,

I want a makeover and I do not want to have to pay for it. It amazes me that as the supply of nearly everything else in life seems to be dwindling; the amount of skin humans possess seems to increase. Now that I am entering the Charpei-time-of-life, I have noticed a decline in the number of eligible men and the energy to get gussied up and venture out to hunt them down. I want to look twenty years younger so the pool of men I have to choose from is not only bigger, but they will do the legwork.

I am not talking about the kind of makeover where my friends think I look “refreshed”. I want the kind of change where folks mistake me for my own daughter. Nobody will ask me if I’ve had some work done because barring a rejuvenation miracle on par with turning water into wine, there will be no mistaking I’ve been partaking of modern medicine.

Okay, here is the laundry list: I want a brow lift, my upper and lower eyelids done, face lift, chin implant, neck rejuvenation, lasik for near sightedness, teeth whitening, and liposuction here and there. Nothing seventy or eighty grand wouldn’t take care of if I had that kind of throw away cash.

Oh, and I also want workout sessions with that miracle worker, Michael Thurmond. Makeover candidates seem to lose inches and tone up where they should while only doing a few targeted exercises. If it were really hard work there should be way more griping. Either your editors are bordering on deceptive advertising or that man should be canonized. By the way, I’m foregoing any breast enhancement because if Michael tones and lifts the girls back into position, I’ll be happy.

I don’t want to hurt anybodies’ feelings’ but I think I will bypass the hairdresser. The hairdos may be all the rage, but after the dollars, time, and discomfort that will have gone into my perfect youthful face no way will I cover it up with wispy hair. I don’t care how Meg Ryan it is.

I think I will pick out my own “Reveal” dress, too. I don’t want to see my nipped and tucked visage on “What Not to Wear” on one of your rival networks. The dresses aren’t terrible, but to this point I haven’t seen a visually stunning setting fit for my future jewelness.
Now, about the reveal portion of the show-where the makeoveree gathers friends and family and steps out from behind curtain # 1 to wow them all with the fantastic transformation she has undergone. I figure if we have done this right not that many people are going to recognize me. If I put all the people I know in a room and identify myself it will kind of defeat my purpose.

I live in a small town and I have lived long enough where I have burned some bridges and maybe just crossed some I should have burned. Suffice to say, I don’t necessarily want the whole town to know what I have done right away. I might be able to use two of three weeks of fence-mending anonymity to further ensure a rosy future.

I realize this isn’t the type of plea you usually receive. I did not go through life with a beak that would put a condor to shame so my situation may not seem very compelling, but the dilapidation time brings is no small matter. I am not number-phobic about age, but I am sag-phobic. We are all going to hit this wall. Please help me so it doesn’t look like I did it face first.

Gratefully,
Cyn