The epic irony of sessions like this is that they’re hosted by people who fancy themselves activists dedicated to honestly conveying all points of view, but deep down, you know they’re judging people just as much as the people they’re so quick to accuse of prejudice. It’s silly and utterly counterproductive.

Anyhoo, thanks for the reply — and keep the goodness coming.
TAF

I’m wondering if anyone has considered this question: Are this doctor’s actions more offensive because he’s not Asian? Because I don’t think so. Plain and simple, my beef with this guy is that he performed cosmetic surgery on someone who didn’t seek it out herself.

I’m Korean, and when I was 17, my parents succeeded in coercing me into having the blepharoplasty. My sister, who is two years my senior, had it done (willingly) in the summer before leaving for college, and mom and dad assumed I’d do the same. I had a similar showdown with my parents — a screaming, crying mess. At the end, my mom said, “But don’t you want to be pretty?” I still don’t know if I was more heartbroken or puzzled. I wondered, “Does that mean I’m ugly?” And then, “Wait, you two gave me these eyes, and they were good enough for you!”

Anyway, resistance was futile. On the day of the surgery, I obediently drove to the doctor’s office with my mother. The needles were the worst part, and the blood a close second. After the procedure, my mom drove me home, giant cotton pads taped over my eyes. They reminded me of McDonalds hamburger buns. Mom said not to worry, and that I’d thank her when I saw how pretty I was going to be. I cried the whole way home, behind my gauze blindfold. To add insult to injury, the salty tears stung like hell. **Whoo! Just writing this now still gets me a little choked up!**

That night, I removed the bandages, expecting something Frankensteinian. And that’s what I saw. The stitches were neat, their tiny black knots poking me in the inner corners of my eyes. Thankfully, it was summer, so I hid out in my house most of the time. When my stitches came out, I was relieved, because I started feeling like myself again, and not a circus freak. To my doctor’s credit, his work was good. The procedure didn’t radically change my appearance, but it did change the angle of my lashline and gave me a subtle crease. About a week after, I was still a bit red and tender, but my dad said, “Hey, you don’t look so angry and mean anymore.” What can you do? He’s the only dad I’ve got.

I think like many parents (and dare I venture it, Asian parents), mine meant well, but had no concept of me as an independent adult with her own wishes and perception of self. I didn’t think I needed to change, and I didn’t want to. But the desire to hold my position was not as strong as my desire to please my parents. In the end, that’s why I caved. So, I managed to make them happy. But that is a slippery slope. Because making choices to please others (especially your parents) is a treadmill that will consume your life. In subsequent years, my parents dangled their approval with the following expectations: to law school, marry a nice Korean boy, have children (daughters first, then sons), live close to home. I haven’t done any of them. Not out of defiance or disrespect; my life just didn’t unfold that way. After the eye surgery thing, I promised myself that while my parents (bless their hearts) were the influential force of my youth, I would be my own force of influence in my adulthood. How can you know you’re truly happy if you’re not?

Sorry to digress. My point: of all the people in your world, your parents are supposed to love you unconditionally, monolid, double-lid, whatever. In a perfect world, all children are beautiful in the eyes of parents. But not all parents are perfectly equipped to love their children in such a pure way, or express it gracefully. I think this guy’s actions are certainly wrong. He thought he was doing something good for her, just like mine thought they were. I don’t heap a harsher judgment on this guy than I do on my parents, though, because they were both doing the same thing.

Maybe some day, this guy will look back at what he did and regret it. Or his daughter, like me, may accept what happened and choose to move forward in life. I’m 35 now, and I have enough self-confidence to just accept myself and my modified eyes. I find myself more attractive when I choose positivity instead of bitterness, even if my parents are still batshit crazy sometimes.

PS: I still don’t know how to use eyeshadow. Crap.