My daughter must have run up the hill to the house, because her cheeks were red and she punched each word between breaths,
“Please … don’t … have … plastic surgery!”
“Do … do I need it?”
I muttered to the empty space where she already had left.
Several years ago, I trained a female sales rep who was going to be transferred to Japan. During the first break, she said,
“Communication and human relationships are very important for you.”
That’s right. That’s why I’m working as an intercultural trainer and coach.
“Our beauty product which relaxes your muscles is a necessary item for the success of your communication and harmony of your relationships.”
She had learned about me in the last 90 minutes, and was now using that knowledge to promote her company’s products. No wonder she had been selected to set up a sales force in Japan.
“Even when you’re upset, your face doesn’t show it much, so it helps your relationships with others.”
I see. Indeed, it might be helpful for my relationship with my husband, but it wouldn’t work well if my children didn’t take my message seriously, when I scolded them.
During the two-day training, she tried to sell me on the product, but I declined her offer without any doubts whatsoever. She made a good point about the effect of my face on my life, but I wasn’t sure about potential tradeoffs. However, several years later, in my mid-fifties, I found myself tempted by the magic that this product can cast on my face.
After hearing my daughter’s plea, I walked stealthily upstairs and stood in front of the mirror. Using my thumbs, I lifted up the sideburns. I looked five years younger. More surprising to me was that my eyes looked brighter and happier.
Plastic surgery is out of question, as I absolutely don’t like any type of pain. However, with this beauty product, while the treatment involves needles, it doesn’t cause much pain. It suddenly seems attractive, as its ROP (Return On Pain) appears to be very good.
Even if people can tell that I had the treatment, as long as I knew that I was emanating liveliness, then, I could live with that. Apparently as I have gotten older, the scale has tipped towards the side of outward pleasantness, over keeping my face intact. I wondered if this was a phase that I needed to go through. To me, older women look beautiful. Would I have a beautiful face after I completed this growing process? I wished I could travel ahead in time and see my seventy-year-old face.
One of my Japanese acquaintances asked her husband if she could have plastic surgery.
“If you change your face, your En (fate and luck) will also change. You don’t want to do that to yourself.”
She agreed and gave up on the idea. A Japanese sentiment is that our faces come not only from our parents, but also from ancestors. Changing our faces could mean going against our ancestors’ will or the paths that they prepared for us. In that context, her husband’s word carries significant weight.
In Japan, we often talk about truth (真shin), virtue (善zen) and beauty (美bi) all together. In comparison to the U.S., Japanese shin/zen/bi has its roots in the past. If we trace back our ancestors, that will eventually connect us to Japanese gods. That’s how we feel about our origin. Therefore, many Japanese believe that the truth is in the past. For the same reason, we tend to think that we can acquire or re-learn virtue by protecting our cultural heritage and preserving the Japanese way of being. The same can also be said about beauty. Of course, creating beauty in our current space and time is wonderful, however, cherishing what our ancestors passed on to us, the beauty initiated in the ancient past and nature, is a romantic recall of our long lost past.
After giving my En serious consideration, I was still torn between being natural and getting treatment. Admittedly, nobody cared about this other than me. The more I thought about it, though, the more I got caught between these two different senses of beauty. And I felt as if this dilemma had added a new wrinkle or two. So, to avoid further damages, I consulted one of my friends, who was very logical, just like a Spock. She told me,
“Why don’t you test the treatment on one side of your face, and if you like the change, you can apply it to the other half.”
I didn’t know what to say. Well, that’s not true. I was mad! Needless to say, that would not only complicate the problem, but also in the end, would force me to go in one direction. Who would do such a silly experiment on your own face? My face is not a theory. I wear it every day of my life!
My decision? I’ve chosen the most economical solution: I don’t look at myself in the mirror. When I have to, I keep the bathroom dimly lit. Well, except before going to work. My way of thinking is that if I don’t see the problem, then, I can trick my mind and say that the problem almost doesn’t exist. This is a typical Japanese delay tactic. I’m trying to buy some time for myself.
Besides, things change. By the time I’m in my seventies, minor cosmetic treatments might become a new norm, just like brushing teeth and coloring your hair. And, I’m sure, the ROP would be much better then than it is now.