I admire beauty. I admire the green plants, the trees. I admire the roses and hibiscuses in our house. I admire the ferocity and sheer deadliness of the killer machines (I could wax poetic about them).
I admire God’s masterpiece – the human body, the skin that covers your bones, the bones that protect the internal organs and work together to give your body a structure and shape; the tireless blood pump and love generator (the heart) …
Ah, yes. I admire feminine beauty. I believe there are things in life that demand you add extra to your offering. These fine creatures of God are one of them. I am talking about girls, people! Nonso (not me) once called them ‘the spice of life’. Now, I don’t know about that, but life is surely more interesting with them in it. Moreover, I must add, that the world is a better place because they are in it with us.
This love of beauty, spurs me towards plastic surgery. The opportunity to recreate beauty, give someone back what he or she lost (due to age oran accident), fills me up. I would not want to stop doing that.
My friend says I want to become a plastic surgeon because I’ll get to see ‘the jiggly stuff each day’ (for some reason, she finds it difficult to say ‘breasts’). I wonder what gave her such a, ah, ridiculous idea. Besides, I will also have male patients.