Keeping the Face

Curious about the fate of their youthful good looks, Danielle Michael and Nick Rockel book a session with a plastic surgeon. His advice: pick young-looking parents, and bring on the Botox.

The results of the latest vancouver magazine MarkTrend Research poll are in. Our question, posed to 501 British Columbians (survey accurate within plus or minus four percent, 19 times out of 20): What would you do if you could wave a magic wand and change one thing about yourself? One third of those polled said they would remodel their appearance. Beyond youthful vigor and general buffness, however, few bemoaned the shortcomings of a specific body part. Still, some would be thrilled with a few more inches-in height, that is. While more than 30 percent of our sample pined for the fountain of youth, nearly as many respondents (25 percent) were focussed inwards. The most common yearning was for more assertiveness, followed by more intelligence or education, and after that a desire to be kinder to others.

Outnumbering both these camps were those who'd take a pass on the magic wand altogether. Twenty-five percent of respondents insisted they like everything about themselves, while an additional 13 percent didn't know what they'd do given the chance, or even where to start. Who knew? Alliance voters are the most smug about the hand they've been dealt, while NDPers and high-income earners are the least content. And ironically, those who have attended a post-secondary institution are more inclined to want further education, while folks who never got past high school would prefer to leave it that way.

With these numbers in mind, we asked another question: Is cosmetic surgery good, bad or ugly? To find out, Vanmag's editor and his wife (a high-tech executive) visited the False Creek Surgical Centre for a personal consultation with a plastic surgeon. While it may not be pretty, everything you're about to read is true. -Julie Winram and Nick Rockel.

Danielle

When asked to do this, i wasn't thrilled. The words "plastic surgery" are loaded with imagery I don't want to think about, never mind associate myself with-like aging, wrinkles, vanity, Michael Jackson. But everything about the experience confounded my expectations.

Arriving at the Vancouver magazine offices, I am surprised to find a stylist, makeup artist and art director charged with making me look great for the photos accompanying the article. Not only am I dressed and made up, but I get to wear a $600 pair of Dolce & Gabbana pointy sling-backs with toothpick heels. It looks as if just walking is going to be the most challenging part of the assignment.

Tottering through the sixth-floor lobby of the False Creek Surgical Centre, I'm struck by what the place isn't. I anticipated pinkness, chrome and mirrors, too many poles and pillars. But the private clinic has an understated, earth-tone décor-it could be my own living room.

I check out the other clients. Missing are the plastic-surgery types I've been expecting: the overweight, the ugly and the old, or movie stars getting regular tweaks of their already phenomenal features. The people in the waiting room seem ordinary-good-looking, but not too good-looking, not that young and not that old. People kind of like me.

While I'm waiting for the 6'4", tanned, chiselled, radio-voiced plastic surgeon to show up, a pleasant fortysomething guy appears and shakes my hand. With his warm bedside manner, Dr. Eric Pugash seems like a pediatrician or a gynecologist, confident and humble at the same time. I feel I can trust him.

"What can I do for you?" asks Dr. Pugash after we sit down in comfy armchairs. I'm stumped. I thought he was supposed to size me up and spot the things that need fixing or fiddling. But no, it's up to me to self- disclose. I start off with something I think is unfixable: my height. At 5'5", I've always wanted to be one or two inches taller (well, maybe two or three). I am surprised to learn that height enhancements are a possibility, but Dr. Pugash doesn't do them. One down.

I pull out my next card: our feet. (I say "our" feet, because they aren't just my feet, but my whole family's: generation after generation, we produce the ugliest feet out there, and they get worse with age.) But it turns out Dr. Pugash doesn't do feet either.

I'm going to have to be more revealing. Next stop: my face. Now, I love my face, but I want it to stay the way it is, and lately I've been seeing some changes. It's getting older. To be specific, there's this teeny, tiny frown line forming on my forehead. No one except me can see it, but I know it's there, and it will get bigger and deeper with time.

What Dr. Pugash recommends is not plastic surgery at all, but a Botox treatment. (Botox is a purified form of the neurotoxin that causes botulism poisoning: injecting a minute amount into the forehead can paralyze the frown muscles for four or five months. Incidentally, its use in cosmetic surgery was pioneered by local surgeons Drs. Alastair and Jean Carruthers.) A Botox treatment costs $300-about twice what I pay for a facial. "If we were sitting in Beverly Hills, you probably would have been having Botox for years now," says Dr. Pugash.

Although my face isn't crying out for Botox yet, Dr. Pugash suggests I use it as a preventative measure. He explains how his industry is evolving from a scalpel-based science to a total cosmetic service, embracing "the lotions and the potions" and techniques such as chemical peels and laser skin resurfacing. Many of the procedures he and his colleagues perform could be called cosmetic health measures as opposed to plastic surgery. That somehow makes it all seem okay.

And now comes the part I'm most dreading: my breasts. Once they were my biggest selling point. Strong and proud, they would charge ahead of me wherever I went. Then I had a son who sucked on them for eight months. When he stopped, they sort of melted. Now they are more mature-looking. To be honest, they are more long-looking. I miss the old ones. Though he doesn't admit it, I think my husband misses them too.

I tell Dr. Pugash that I don't want new boobs or more boobs. I just want my current boobs to go back where they belong. He explains that "putting" them back creates more scars and fewer improvements than adding implants. "I don't want to look like a porn star," I say. His solution, for about $6,000: saline implants placed underneath the pectoral muscles (ow!) and atop the ribcage, giving the impression of fuller breasts and pulling the whole package up. The risks of this procedure include infection, bleeding after surgery and potential loss of sensation in the nipple, one possible entry point for the implants.

Noticing my skepticism, Dr. Pugash opens his photo album of past clients, and we look at before-and-after pictures. Before: women with breasts like mine; after: shots of the same women with breasts like my original set. The new breasts look au naturel-full and a little floppy. They are breasts that fill out a sweater but don't take over your whole outfit. However, Dr. Pugash advises that I postpone any implants until I'm definitely done having kids.

Leaving Dr. Pugash's office I have that euphoria you only get after revealing a big secret to a trusted friend, and realizing that secret isn't so bad after all. The bottom line? I'll contemplate a Botox treatment, but I'll wait until my child-bearing days are over before considering breast implants. As for the height and foot problems, after wearing those $600 shoes for an hour, I realize how sexy they make my feet look-not to mention those two extra inches of height. And as it turns out, they aren't that hard to walk in. Having found a fashion solution for two of my four problems, I head off to Robson Street to pick up a pair of high-heeled sling-backs.

For the rest of this story, please see the March issue of Vancouver magazine.