Dear Baby: Should I “fix” my double chin?

Hey!

Happy to be here. It’s the last Sunday of the month which means it’s time for Dear Baby. Today I’ll be answering three very different questions. They are, paraphrased:

1) I hate my double chin and want to fix it with plastic surgery. What do you think I should consider before going through with it?

2) I used to read the news for my old job and it made me feel like a mature adult. Now the news brings me nothing but dread and I want to stop reading it. What responsibility do I have “stay informed”?

3) How do you incorporate so many other people’s ideas into your writing? I envy your ability to do this but I don’t think have the memory for it.

That last one’s a little inside-baseball but I distinctly remember feeling that way earlier in my career and wanted to pass on what I’ve learned. The Dear Danny podcast has now officially moved to mid-month so we’ll see you for that in a couple weeks! Don’t forget you can always write in here or call in at 802-404-BABY. I choose different types of questions for this column versus the podcast, so anything goes 😛 Imo your questions are the best on the internet.

1. On plastic surgery

“I like everything about myself physically, except for my double chin. It’s hereditary, all the females in my family have it. It ruins photographs for me and I delete almost every photo of myself because I just don’t like the way it makes me look. I’ve tried gua sha, nu face, facial massage, and other at-home quick-fix treatments for a ‘snatched jawline.’ I’m at the point where I’m considering plastic surgery to permanently fix the issue and ideally my insecurity. I have the money to do it and the time off to recover; there isn’t much stopping me from going through with it. I guess…I’m not asking for permission, I’m probably going to do it no matter what you say. But more…what are your thoughts here? What should I consider that maybe I’m not considering because I’m the one inside my insecurity? I guess I’m looking for a response from a best-friend figure on plastic surgery, altering your appearance, and facing a personal insecurity head on.”  

I found this question to be very tender. It also struck me because it was almost identical to another question I got this month, about a distinctive mole. The other questioner was a little more explicitly undecided than you, but I sense a lack of resolution in your question, too. Maybe more than you let on. It sounds to me like you’re in the limbo of wishing that someone or something could save you—either from the conflict you feel over this procedure or from the insecurity that currently plagues you. Sadly I don’t think I can free you from either, but I do have some ideas about how you might better process this moment.

I noticed you didn’t mention any efforts to make peace with yourself as an alternative to making a change. Maybe you see that option as implied, but I want to talk about it for a second—not coerce you with a tiresome self-love imperative, just think through what acceptance can mean. If you’re anything like me, you probably tend to think of dissatisfaction as a mobilizing force: either you answer the call and succeed or stay the same and fail. Maybe at one point in your life, it became extremely useful to think like that. That was definitely true for me—I needed that mindset to lift me out of long spells of complacency. But I’ve recently entered a time in my life where acceptance holds renewed appeal. Sometimes when I’m spinning about a problem, I’ll pause to ask myself what it would mean to accept the problem instead of solve it. Sometimes, the question alone is startling.

Inaction can require bravery, too. You’ve spent a long time fixating on your chin. What would it mean to release¹ this fixation without addressing the dissatisfaction? What would it feel like to move through the world knowing that your worst fears about this feature might be true and there’s nothing you plan to do about it? What would that look like? How would your life be different? Does the tenor of acceptance, rather than ambition, change anything for you? There’s no right or wrong answer to these questions, but if you haven’t sat with them, I think it could be worth your time.

I think many of us believe that some version of salvation lies in finally approving of our physical appearances. You mention your chin like it’s the last box to check: I like everything about myself physically, except for my double chin. As if by fixing it you’ll finally be free. But as Astra Taylor writes in The Age of Insecurity, as quoted by Jessica DeFino, “To be human is to be perpetually insecure.” You might find DeFino’s column useful—she talks about how often people undergo procedures to address one insecurity only to find themselves fixating on another. Anecdotal as that may be, all of us know this is fundamental to the human condition. We search and we find and the goal post always moves. Real security, Taylor writes, “can only be achieved in death.” The ultimate goal post.

I won’t deny I’m depressed by the rise of voluntary cosmetic procedures and angry at the booming businesses behind them. Maybe you guessed that, hence your choice to ask me. Some nuance is definitely required (especially for gender affirmation procedures that save lives), but I think it’s a largely malignant industry that upholds patriarchy and makes things worse for the collective. I also think the push for the “distigmatization” of facial tweaks—which almost always kowtow to sexist, ageist, racist, and fatphobic ideals—is a hopeless moral dodge. At the same time, I recognize that the impacts on individuals are totally circumstantial, and if someone’s life could be vastly improved by a procedure, I understand why they wouldn’t feel compelled to sacrifice that for some hypothetical greater good. We don’t all pay the same price for abstaining from harmful beauty practices, so who am I to ask people to accept that? Still, I’d challenge anyone with a platform who celebrates cosmetic procedures like botox and eye lifts under the purview of choice feminism to be specific about who these practices liberate and at what cost.

My bias isn’t only political, it’s personal too. I think body dysmorphia drives these consumer decisions more than anything else, which leads to some pretty (in my opinion) devastating outcomes. I almost always prefer (actually, mourn) people’s “before” photos when I see the comparisons online. When someone changes the very thing that gives their face interest or character, it makes my stomach hurt. Maybe they’re happy, which is good, but still it feels like some kind of loss for the world. It makes me wish they could have seen themselves more clearly first, undergone a more internal transformation. You mentioned that you’re “inside your insecurity,” which I think is a useful phrasing. You can’t know who appreciates the softness around your jawline and why, or if that person might one day be you.

You know your situation best. I just wanted to rally a little for your double chin, the one passed around by the women in your family like an heirloom, the kind depicted on beautiful women in Renaissance paintings. Maybe the thought of accepting your face is too tiring, the thought of loving it too transgressive—you’re entitled to these feelings. Not everything has to be a moral crusade. But if you choose to move forward with this procedure, I hope you bear in mind that, politics or stranger’s opinions aside, there are no quick fixes for the life-long work of making peace with our bodies—as they change, as they drift in and out of social “acceptability,” as they age. When our consciousness finally departs, our bodies are all that will be left behind, marked by how we treated them.

2. On reading the news

“Dear Baby,

A few years ago, I worked as an executive assistant, and one of my boss’s top priorities was for me to be very politically knowledgeable. I read and watched the news daily and was always prepared to discuss local, national, and international politics. It was a great ‘adulting’ moment for me. In a weird way, it felt good to be involved and knowledgeable about what was happening in the world. The conversations I had with my boss were mature, and they made me feel mature in response.

I don’t have that job anymore; I left to be a stay-at-home mom. Lately, the world of politics feels BONKERS and puts me in a constant headspin. I also don’t really have anyone to discuss the news with—I’d rather talk to my husband about other things, and my baby has nothing to add. Since I had made a habit of keeping up, I still do, but I find absolutely no joy in it. I want to quit watching and reading the news, but I’m conflicted. Is that avoidant? Should I stay informed? What’s the right balance here?

Signed, 
Politically Conflicted”