Erica Scott: Life, Love and Spanking

Ruminations, opinionated observations, darkly humorous blathering and the occasional rant from an outspoken spanko and unapologetic attention wh–, um, hog.

Erica 2.0

Hunker down, folks. Grab your coffee or your Red Bull or whatever. This will be long.

(deep breath) So where have I been? (Oh, were you gone?)

I could make something up. I could simply say nothing and say I’m on hiatus. I could keep my private life completely private. But… why start now.

I have always endeavored to be who I am on here; not just Erica the spanko, but Erica the whole person. And so I take the risk here, setting myself up for judgment, for snark, for jokes, whatever… because I believe that good will come of it too. That my honesty will resonate with others. And really, there’s no hiding this anyway.

Last Thursday, I had surgery. I had what’s known in the medical field as a rhytidectomy.

The rest of y’all know it as a facelift.

Yup, I did it. After a whole lot of agonizing over it, discussing it, researching it, and thinking about it non-stop, I went for it. 

Why? So many reasons. Some positive, some negative, some personal, some societal. But all mine.

Let’s be straightforward here: I am a product of my environment. I grew up in Beverly Hills, in a family involved in Hollywood. Looks were emphasized in my life as far back as I can remember. My mother was beautiful. My stepmother was beyond stunning. My poor mother, always hyper-vigilant about her looks, had practically every procedure known to mankind in her lifetime. She had her face lifted twice, her eyes done twice. She had a nose job, a boob job. She had liposuction and laser peels. And yet, she was never happy with her looks. Or mine. 

I can still hear her voice, and sadly, it became my own inner voice. “Don’t make that face; it will cause wrinkles.” “When are you going to get that thing under your eye removed?” “Are you using enough sunscreen? You’re getting brown spots.” “Why don’t you get your nose fixed?” Sometimes when I was at her house, and putting on makeup, she’d stand behind me, staring into my face in the mirror. I could feel her scrutinizing it. I catch myself doing the same thing, and I hate that in myself. But it is what it is.

I live in Southern California. People are not supposed to age here, especially women. I could go on a long diatribe about the media and supermodels and imagery vs. reality and ageism and yadda yadda, but I’ve said it all before and it doesn’t bear repeating. It, too, is what it is. I’m not going to change society. I just have to live comfortably within it, and in my own skin.

Here’s where it gets more personal. I am a very youthful 57 years old. I don’t feel my age, and I don’t want to look it, either. I work out, I keep fit and strong. I do not have ridiculously lofty expectations — I know I will not look 30 again. But there is something so disconcerting about feeling younger and vibrant, and then seeing an old(er) face in the mirror. If I could make the visage coincide a bit more closely with the image I have within, then I was going to do it. 

I can hear what some of my readers are thinking right now, the ones who haven’t met me in person, the ones who just see my pictures. “What are you talking about?? You don’t look old!” Ah, but remember, it’s the Internet. You see what I allow you to see. What you don’t know is that for every picture I show, there are about two dozen that I delete. What you don’t know is that I use my photo-enhancing software to soften my wrinkles a little, to blot out my age spots. But OK, I’m no expert with that program and I can actually do very little. So what else do I do?

I smile. I make damn sure I’m smiling, when I show my face. Because when I smile, my face transforms. Everything lifts. 

However, when I’m not smiling, when my face is neutral? I have what’s known in today’s slang as “resting bitch face.” What is that? Pretty self-explanatory, really. When I don’t smile, gravity takes over. The corners of my mouth droop down, my lower face sags. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been asked what’s wrong, am I angry, etc., when I feel perfectly fine. Because when my face is at rest, I naturally look sad and/or pissed off. Not attractive. And who goes around smiling every fucking minute? Certainly not a grouch like me.

And then there’s the matter of the turkey wattle on my neck. 

Don’t believe me? Here’s an example of one of my tricks.


She’s showing off her butt — but what is she hiding?


See what I did there? Notice the clever placement of my shoulder, my hand. I look flirtatious and peek-a-boo-ish… but what I’m actually doing is hiding my lower face.

Well. Not hiding anymore. Here is my lower face at rest, in all its glory. This is what people saw when they asked me if I was OK. And I swear, I am not frowning here.



“Oh come on, Erica, you’re pushing your face down to make your neck look bad.” OK, here’s another view, head slightly raised.




Admit it, kids. You’ve heard of Sad Sack? I was Sad Sag.

Yeah, I know. We’re supposed to age gracefully. Accept the changes. Looks are just surface; it’s what inside that counts. I’m beautiful to the people who love me. Cosmetic surgery is superficial and vain and pathetic. Bring it. I’ve heard it all. And you know what? I don’t care. Do I wish I simply didn’t give a rat’s ass about my looks and could happily grow old and gray and wrinkly and look upon my sexy days in the rearview mirror? Sure. It would be a lot easier and a hell of a lot less expensive. But I thought about this long and hard, and I know deep in my gut that I did not do this for the wrong reasons. I didn’t do it to fix my life, to feel good about myself. I already feel pretty good about myself, for the most part. I wanted to feel better. And yes, look better.

Very few people knew about this beforehand. I have itched and ached and yearned to blog about this, because it was so all-consuming in my life for a month or so leading up to it, but I chose not to. Because, as wise friends warned me, some people would try to talk me out of it, tell me negative stories. And, while there would be plenty of supportive comments too, I would focus on the negative ones the most. Because that’s what I do.

It was a busy few weeks. I had pre-op appointments, blood work, a lot of i’s to dot and t’s to cross. I had to clear all the work out of my schedule. I had to make sure my schedule aligned with John’s so that he could be available to pick me up. I had the surgery on Thursday, stayed overnight at an aftercare facility, saw the doc on Friday, and then went home Friday afternoon. It was John’s Friday off (he has every other Friday off), so all was good. I did laundry, cleaned, ran every errand I could think of, paid the bills.

Our first snafu happened in the form of good news. John has been haggling with his HMO for the past several months, trying to get in to see the head of cardiac surgery. They kept putting him off and giving him the runaround, but he kept pushing and pushing until they finally caved and gave him the much-coveted appointment to see the head honcho. When? Last Friday at 1:00. Just before he was due to pick me up. Aggggh! 

Plan B was to wait at the doc’s until he could get there (they told me it would be OK and they had a room they could put me in so I could lie quietly), and Plan C was to take a cab home. But then Steve volunteered to come pick me up and get me home. Lovely, lovely friend. ♥  John got through his appointment and actually had some good news to bring home to me, but I’ll go more into that later.

John stayed with me over the weekend, brought me flowers and tasty treats to try to tempt my appetite. I had to take antibiotics and pain meds with codeine, and all I wanted to do was sleep, but I did manage to get some food into me. Fortunately, I have never had nausea or bad after-effects from anesthesia, so I didn’t have to suffer with that. But it was hard to open my mouth, and hard to chew. So he bought me strawberry yogurt, teriyaki salmon, soup. 

There’s a lot more work that goes into a facelift than you might think. I’ve certainly learned a lot. I won’t bore you with the details, but it’s major surgery involving a whole lot of nerves. You don’t come of it looking like an after-picture. You look like… well, you look beat up. It’s not pretty. I have stitches in front of my ear, under my chin, and running around the back of my ears and into the hairline. I had drains inserted in my neck for the first 24 hours (and if you’ve never experienced that, all I can say is don’t). My face is swollen and round and tight, and my neck is very bruised. I can’t feel my ears. When he cut into the back of my scalp, some hair was cut off underneath, on both sides. That hair matted into the rest of my hair, and then was covered up with the bandages. On Friday, after I got the bandages removed, I was allowed to go home and wash my hair. Clumps of the cut hair came off in my hands. I knew this was going to happen, but it still was creepy to see.

The right side of my face is more swollen than the left, my right jaw hurts, I can’t raise my right eyebrow, and when I smile, the right side of my mouth doesn’t go up as much as the left. I saw the doc this morning. He assured me, over and over, that it was simply the nerve trauma he’d been telling me about. The face is rich with nerves — motor and sensory. The motor nerves, which are larger and control the muscles, are visible in surgery, and doctors are very careful to avoid them. But the smaller, sensory nerves get cut — hence the pain, the swelling, the tingling, and the numbness. Right now, it’s like the right side of my face got an extra three doses of lidocaine at the dentist. This will resolve. When, is the question. Could be next week. Or next month. My job right now is to wait, to be patient, to take good care of myself and heal. And not let my mind go to bad places. The doctor was so very kind, and he said that he’s dealt with this before. It’s not quite as common (the asymmetry), but it’s all superficial nerve damage and it will all regenerate. 

“How do you KNOW?” I blurted. He wasn’t offended. “How do I know?” he answered. “Because I was inside there. I saw all those motor nerves. I know none of them were damaged. I know this is scary, and I wish I could give you an instant pill or something, but this will pass. Everything looks good overall, and honestly, you look better overall than most people do after a week.”

Meanwhile, he gave me the good news that I don’t have to take the codeine anymore, that I can go back to Advil, which will help with the inflammation and swelling. I didn’t like the codeine; it made me lightheaded. I can’t blow-dry or style my hair, so I’m just washing it, putting it in a ponytail and putting on a bandanna. Next week, I will go back and get all the stitches out.

What price vanity? So, I will be a hermit for a while. Certainly no play for me for a good while, no fun spanky posts. What the hell… haven’t been Chrossed in over a month anyway, no matter what I posted. I just can’t keep up with the Tumblr blogs, and I’ve given up trying. People will read me if they want to read me. I will be posting about my progress, about my feelings, about my ups and downs in this latest journey. And I DO want to get back to fun and play, not to mention the gym, not to mention a gazillion other little things one takes for granted when one isn’t in the middle of surgery recovery (like being able to turn my head, sleep on my side, eat a sandwich). But all in good time.

FetLife goes on without me; I haven’t posted there either. Everyone had a blast at Crimson Moon and is now talking about the next event. I was feeling isolated and apart from the scene before, for various reasons, and now I’m sure I will feel even more so during this exile, but it can’t be helped. I don’t really feel like joining in anyway. Friends are busy and lives go on. Mine has sort of stopped right now, but I can’t expect others to stop with me. I don’t need grand gestures, or a lot of anyone’s time. I can only hope for some support, a few kind and encouraging words. I have work to do, which is wonderful timing, since I’m already sick of TV and movies. I will try to get out and drive a bit, run a few errands, now that I’m not on codeine anymore. John will probably come to my place again this weekend, since I’m not really up for going to stay at his just yet. Steve has been wonderful, coming by to visit me yesterday, driving me to my appointment today. I am in good hands.

I know some people out there will judge me for this. People judge cosmetic surgery overall — they think of Joan Rivers, and the celebs with frozen faces and pouty fish lips. Feminists may hate me. I remember many years ago, I had a friend who was rather bitterly militant about the things women do to look pretty/sexy/etc., and how unfair it was that society imposes this, and how it’s all bullshit, and so on and so forth. I can still hear her railing, “How could any self-respecting woman allow anyone to carve her face open!!” Ugh. We were both just under 40. I wonder how she feels now.

So… if you think badly of me, so be it. Please don’t tell me. It won’t change anything, and it will just hurt my feelings.

A little aside: When I was consulting with the doc, he asked me if there were any moles or growths or whatever I’d like removed “while he was there.” I said sure, OK, and pointed to one on my cheek and one on my neck. “How about the one under your left eye?” he asked.

Ah, my eye spot/wart/mole/whatever the hell it is. John, Steve, and other men in my life have all said they think it’s sexy. It was one of the many banes of my mother’s existence. I can’t tell you how many times she urged me to have it removed. “It’s growing!” “No, mother, it isn’t.” “It could get malignant!” “No, mom, it can’t.” It was simply an imperfection, and she couldn’t stand that.

“Nah,” I said to the doctor. “Leave it.” And there it will stay. 

If you’ve read this far, thanks for sticking with me. And be grateful I didn’t post the selfie I took after surgery, with a big black eye and my face swathed in bandages and ice packs! There is such a thing as too much honesty. :-/  ← (my smile for a while)

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55 thoughts on “Erica 2.0

  1. Hey Sweetie,

    I'm happy for you. This was obviously not a spur of the moment decision, and I know you thought about it long and hard before deciding it was right for you. Don't worry about what other people say, although I know that's easier said than done. If you're happy, that's all that matters. It's YOUR life after all. They're not the ones living it.

    I'm wishing you a speedy recovery. I can only imagine how uncomfortably painful the experience is. Yikes. As for the nerves, and I know this is no real comparison to your situation, but I had my face numb for a full month after getting my wisdom teeth pulled. I was convinced that I was permanently damaged but I don't even remember notice when the feeling came back but it did. I'm sure you'll be fine when your nerves are no longer freaking out.

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  2. Beth — thank you, sweetheart. Wow, a month? Nerves are tricky things. Sorry you had to go through that!

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  3. The most important thing is that YOU are happy. Fuck what anyone else thinks! <3

    I am wishing you a speedy recovery. 🙂

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  4. That sounds so scary, and I've always thought you were beautiful, but I can completely understand and identify with your reasons. I'm already finding looking in the mirror disconcerting and am not looking forward to that getting worse. If it weren't such an ordeal, I'd get a face lift right now. As for people having a problem with it, it's not their face! I love you and hope you heal as quickly and painlessly as possible! <333

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  5. Hey Sweetie,
    Sorry for not seeing this until now. I'm under my business school rock and really have no idea what's happening at all in the kink world or sadly even in the lives of most of my friends.
    But I wanted to send you hugs and say that I think it's awesome that you shared this! You know I'm a fan of the overshare, and I think a lot of people that read this will take a lot from it even if they don't say so.
    As for the recovery and thoughts of plastic surgery in general, I totally get the mother thing. My mom and I have a very difficult relationship when it comes to my appearance. And she is really hard about herself about how she looks, despite how beautiful she is (much like you). So she has had a couple procedures done: her eye lids lifted, her nose done (though that was mostly medical), some botox, and has had her eyeliner tattooed on. And I think they were great decisions. She is happier, and she continues to look lovely. You wouldn't know she's had work done, and it's her personal decision.

    So I think it's great that you made this decision for you. 🙂 Cause that's who it is for in the end.

    I do hope that you have an easy and speedy recovery. None of her proceedures were as major as yours, so I can't speak to recovery in general. But I do remember that the first week was terrible, and after that it got better pretty quickly.

    Biggest hugs and lots of love.

    Kelley

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  6. Anonymous on said:

    If you are happy, I'm happy for you. Hang in there and pile up on the sofa or immerse yourself in work. Post surgical healing is never fun but the end results will be worth the ordeal…hard to believe right now but “eyes on the prize”.

    Having seen the classic Beatles poster over your bed many times (in your photos).
    I thought of you on Saturday while attending the Paul McCartney concert in Jacksonville, Fl. Hell of a show you'd have loved it!

    Heal up and be happy

    Anon E. Mouse

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  7. It is a great to thing to do what you feel you should do! I'm sure things will heal all sound and safe, and looking to a selfie you do not wish to keep for yourself.

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  8. Good for you for making the choice that is right for you.

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  9. Wow, excellent post. Thanks for sharing your experience with this, especially after all the recent uproar over Renee Zellweger (sp?). I read all the way to the end, and I have to say that I would never judge anyone for doing what they need to do to feel better about themselves. The only thing I find sad is when women (like your mother, apparently) chase procedure after procedure for self confidence that never appears. You don't seem to have that problem, though, Erica. If you're not self confident, you're *very* good at hiding it.

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  10. SAS — I will be. Just have to heal. xox

    Lily — love you too! And no, don't you get one now. Wait another 30 years or so, k? 😉

    Kelley — no need for apologies! I just posted this today. And yeah, your mom sounds a lot like mine was. (sigh) It's tough, growing up with that! But I hope her procedures assuaged her ageing fears.

    Mouse — he's still going strong, isn't he!

    MrJ — soon. 🙂

    EL — thank you! 🙂

    Autumn — oh good lord, Renee Zellweger. See, that's what I did NOT want. I don't want to look like someone else. I want to look like me, just a slightly younger version. 🙂 And no, I will not be doing anything else to my face. I'd love to have the brown spots all over my arms lasered off, but that's another day, maybe.

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  11. Goddamn those who judge your decision and ditto for all of the critics of your pre surgery appearance. You know that cliché about people being “their own worst enemies”. Women in general seem to scrutinize to death their own “flaws.” And many of us can be catty bitches when others don't meet our visual approval. But ALL that matters is YOU are at peace with your choice.

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  12. Kelly — I am. I admit, I have had my moments in the past week, as I looked at my swollen misshapen face and thought, “Holy shit, what have I done… I've ruined myself… this is what I get for being so fucking vain!” But I've been assured and reassured that this is absolutely normal. And underneath all the neurosis is a solid feeling of “YES. I wanted this. I chose this. I do not, and I will not, regret this.”

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  13. Anonymous on said:

    I was just wondering if you were sick as no blogs and no activity on FL and then I saw some a post on FL & went to your blog to catch the news. I, personally, thought Renee Zellweger was much prettier before her surgery. I did not recognize her. I hope she is happy with the results though. Your life, your choice, your decision….screw what everybody else thinks. Everyone will have some kind of an opinion. Hopefully the negative ones will keep them quiet. I hope you have a speedy recovery and can't wait to see the results.

    An Admirer/Follower

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  14. Erica, we are about the same age. My wife is 57, I am 58. We are mid-baby boomers. Basically anyone who looks at me and says I am old can go fuck themselves. Yeah I have a potbelly and gray hair. My wife is a chubblette. who gives a shit. You Erica are fine. It is your body/face and if you want to change, more power to you. I am with you and love your blogs and will be a loyal reader for as long as a draw breath. I love your blog. I hope you get through your recovery fast. I have had surgery for a variety of stuff and understand the misery and the pain and then after a while, all that is behind, you are back 100% and life is good. Hang in there. You have a fan in me.
    Baxter

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  15. Anonymous — I hope she is happy too. What makes me sad is, according to what I've read, she totally denies having anything done, saying, “Of course I look different, I'm older!” Who does she think she's kidding? Thank you for being so nice. 🙂

    Baxter — hey, I have gray hair too. But my hairdresser puts stuff on it. 😉 You're very sweet and I appreciate the support.

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  16. Hi Erica — The surgery that you had done, sounds scary 😦 But if it makes you happy it makes me happy 🙂 You always look BEAUTIFUL. so screw all the negative people.I Love you and I am here for you 🙂 I am happy that ,John and Steve are taking such good care of you.They are AWESOME 🙂 I just had my second spinal tap last Wednesday, I was hooked up to an iv and I had 3 tubes of blood drawn,they think I may have a fake brain tumor.tomorrow morning I see the neurologist to find out my results.I am praying for some answers,I have 40 different symptoms that are very scary 😦 Get well soon my very special friend 🙂 Big hugs always from naughty girl Jade/ Emily Jean

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  17. Jade — honey, a spinal tap is scary as hell, so you're very brave. Don't worry about me. I will heal and all will be well.

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  18. Anonymous on said:

    I hope you have a speedy recovery Erica! Plastic surgery is one of those things that many people feel they should have an opinion on. I had my breasts done because I have always wanted to have this particular procedure. Recovery period is difficult and emotionally challenging because you are a long way away from the “after picture” and you have to consolidate how you imagined you'd look with what you actually look like now. I definitely had a few “what have I done?!” moments and despite a few complications, I can honestly tell you that I am super happy with the end result. I have also had a bit of botox here and there just to smooth out the deeper wrinkle lines and *I* feel better. I haven't gone through any of this for anyone else and I am fully aware that I may feel better now because I've bought into the society's description of beauty but honestly, I could not care less. If I feel good and I have not hurt anyone else to get here then I am golden, and so are you!

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  19. Anonymous — thank you for this! It's validating and lovely and so very appreciated. ♥

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  20. I'm delighted that you have excellent men in your life: John, Steve and your doctor! Also that everything came together at last for you to be able to get this done, and that you're recovering so well and quickly! I'll be eager to see you “showing off,” and know you'll be very pleased with the end results!

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  21. Good for you Erica. You have to make the right choice for you.

    Are you still in bandages? Wishing you a speedy recovery.

    Love,
    Ronnie
    xx

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  22. I hope your face lift turns out to be all that you want it to be. Do not worry about the doubters. They are jealous that they can not do it. I can not wait to see your face after all the healing takes place.

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  23. Erica, I know you have wanted this for a long time, so bravo for finally going through with it. It sounds painful and inconvenient now, but you will heal in time, and I'm sure you will look even more fabulous than you did before.

    I too battle gravity by keeping a smile on my face whenever possible.

    Hugs,
    Hermione

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  24. Erica, you go girl! 🙂 I'm excited for you and hope you have a speedy recovery! (Lots of hugs)

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  25. Kevlarbottom on said:

    Good for you Erica! I know it is something you have wanted to do for awhile. You cares what other people think, it's your face, your decision. Here's to hoping you have a speedy recovery and to quickly getting back to doing the things you love.

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  26. Wow. One of the things I've learned over the years in AA is to address my fears before they overwhelm me. You could be the poster child for this – well, maybe not yet with what you say about that selfie. LOL, sorry lame joke. The part about facing fears is real and not a joke – you've done this, both with the operation and, perhaps much harder, here.

    Very positive post. Thank you. Jon

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  27. Wolfie — my doctor is great. I had to page him late last night (everything's OK; a little blood and a lot of panic), and he called me right back. At 1:00 a.m.! I felt like I was back in the 1950s. 🙂

    Ronnie — no bandages. The initial mummy wrapping was removed the next day, and then I had to wear a compression bandage, but as of yesterday, I'm done with that too.

    Robert — me too! 🙂

    Hermione — yeah, the smiling thing gets old. I mean, it's nice, but sometimes you just don't feel like it!

    Jay — hugs back, and thanks!!

    KB — believe it or not, I think I'm missing exercise even more than spanking right now! My body is craving it, even though my face and neck are screaming “DON'T YOU MOVE!”

    Jon — “feel the fear and do it anyway,” right?

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  28. sixofthebest on said:

    Erica, I have always loved YOUR INNER SELF, so I couldn't care less if you did not look like Elizabeth Taylor, or Barbra Streisand, both nice Jewish girls, one of course converted, once you got a facelift. Besides I have also have thought I looked like John Wayne, or Dustin Hoffman. But they tell me I look more like Boris Karloff. Its Hallowlean You Know. XXX Luv ya

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  29. Six — Boris Karloff wasn't bad looking at all, underneath all that Frankenstein makeup. 🙂

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  30. Hi Erica.

    First, I think this is a great bit of writing. I wish you a quick and full recovery. Having had to have plastic surgery some years back, I know the nerve pain is no joke and the numbness is freaky.

    I also totally get why you decided to do this. You're right, SoCal is lovely in many ways, but it's not an easy place for women to age. I see it and feel it. Hell, overweight and in my late 40s, I am it.

    I have a friend who, at 61, was being asked all the time if she was tired. She's an attorney and plans on working into her 70s, but it was clear she wasn't going to be able to convince people she wasn't tired all the time. Her facelift took her back (imo) to her mid 40s, which was just what she wanted. It wasn't the sort of slippery slope people warn about and, frankly, she looks great. I bet you will too once you're alll healed up.

    Many (gentle) hugs.

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  31. Mija — thank you. And good for your friend. It is such a damn drag when people think you're tired/angry/sad/unapproachable simply 'cause your face is heading south!

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  32. Hi Erica,
    I love this post because it is brutally honest and positive. I am just waiting for that wonderful to return.

    We men have it easy…just hide behind a big grey beard

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  33. Sorry…wonderful SMILE

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  34. Don — soon, I promise!

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  35. As one of the Nony Mice said, your life, your choice, your decision. All I can offer is a speedy recovery to you and I look forward to seeing you again. If you are happy then I am happy for you 🙂

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  36. Rich — would love to see you again too! Thanks. 🙂

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  37. Anonymous on said:

    You've talking about getting this down off and on for several years. An advertising slogan and an advertising jingle came to mind as soon as I read your news: The slogan was: “The quality of life does matter” (which briefly was the slogan for a Philadelphia based department store chain that has since morphed into Macy's); the jingle was: “be good to yourself; it's important to do” (I forget what that one was for). I can't say it any better than Madison Ave so good for you. I hope you heal quickly and that you feel better soon.

    Mike

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  38. Mike — thank you. 🙂 I like that jingle. It IS important.

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  39. Erica,

    I'm not sure why vanity is a bad word to some, but am SO proud of you for exercising yours.

    You're a beautiful woman who's decided not to let the laws of physics get you down (literally) and I cannot wait to see and experience just how empowered you'll feel once all the not-so-fun parts are done.

    Congrats, my friend~

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  40. Dana — thank you, sweetheart. Yeah, I'm not sure why vanity is so cursed. It's a human thing.

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  41. I don't know how I missed this, but finally seeing it now. Ya gotta do what ya gotta do, ya know? Yeah, what you look like right after surgery is freaky, but I hear the payoff is well worth it. I'm thinking that after I lose all the weight I want to lose that my face is going to do some seriously wrong things. LOL I've almost stopped taking pics of myself completely, because for some reason it's not cooperating anymore as it is, and that's without any sag! The right side of my mouth has NEVER gone up as far as my left when I smile, so I'm used to that. It opens up more in the corner instead. Yeah, it's weird, but that's pretty much the same as everything else about me. : )

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  42. Jen — my smile is usually symmetrical, but my nose is decidedly off-center. (Yet another thing my mother thought I should fix.) Yeah… loose skin is the unfortunate side effect of weight loss.

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  43. Anonymous on said:

    I know this is something you have wanted for some time. A post comes to mind where Jon explained you could not afford it and you cried.
    I am so happy you found a way. to be happy with them self is not vanity, it is just healthy. I always thought you were lovely, I hope this makes you feel half as pretty as we already know you are! 🙂

    Poppa Mark

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  44. Mark — you have a good memory; I wrote that in 2011. And thanks for the kind words. 🙂

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  45. ¨Thanky for sharing that Erica. I too recall you writing about considdering having a facelift a while ago (can't say if it was 2011 or not, but I do recall that it was the post that prompted me to comment here for the first time).
    At the end of the day, all that matters is that you are happy with having had this surgery. What the rest of the world thinks really doesn't matter. I know that I wouldn't pick you for 57, going by the pictures on your blog, but as you wrote, we readers only see what you choose to show. May you heal fast, and may the end result live up to all your hopes for it, and have made it worth every moment of the process 🙂

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  46. Kyrel — thank you for the encouragement. I know I will be happy soon. Just have to get through the healing! But each day is a little bit better. 🙂

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  47. Bobbie Jo on said:

    I am so happy for you, Erica. I had nose surgery when I was 21. I had a couple of problems. One was a deviated septum. The other was the years of nonsense about the size of it. You know about that kid stuff. It is so crazy the way some people act about things like this. It was for you that you had it done and I am proud of you for taking that step. You rock, gal.

    I am also happy you have a good doctor and two gentlemen that take good care of you.

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  48. Good for you! Hope recovery is swift and results what you're looking for. Why not do what makes us feel more like ourselves?

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  49. Bobbie Jo — oh, believe me, I know that kid stuff well. Good for you that you took care of that; I'll bet you felt much better, once all the inconvenience was over.

    Ariel — well, you know. Because it's risky, it's expensive, it's vain, blah blah blah. But screw that. I did it anyway. 🙂

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  50. Again, just feel better and recover….I personnally have always thought you were and are beatiful, especially in a lovely panty…..Feel better
    Always
    Ron

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  51. Ron — thank you. 🙂

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  52. I know I'm late, but I'm catching up on some blogs. I kind of wish I didn't read it though because I never heard the slang 'resting bitch face' but just noticed it in the mirror a couple months ago and you are right, it does look like you're mad. I'm glad you finally got it done; I know you really wanted to for some time. I used to be against facelifts and thought women should just age gracefully, but that was before the Grand Canyon moved onto my face and brought all its wrinkle friends with it. I wouldn't mind getting a facelift myself but I just had some other major surgery so I don't even want to look at a doctor now. What a difference a couple weeks will make. Good luck

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  53. Kaki — isn't that a dreadful term? But it fits, which is the really sad part. (sigh) Yeah, time has a way of changing people's minds about cosmetic surgery, I think. So sorry to hear you had to deal with NON-elective surgery; I hope you are better.

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  54. Erica, I just started following your blog today. Though I had lurked for two days before! Anyway, my mom had a facelift 40+ years ago. At that time I thought “never for me.” But now I'm 58, have a resting bitch face also, and my eyes don't look as open as they use to. You've given me something to think about.

    Thank you for being so open and honest. I see why people love you so much. Best wishes for a full and speedy recovery.

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  55. Chattel Drop — what a lovely comment! Thank you, and welcome to my blog. 🙂

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