So in 2003, I set out on a path to change my physical appearance and to hopefully reconstruct an image of myself I could live with. I let my hair grow, even got extensions, feeling that that would make me more desirable, more beautiful. I had a breast augmentation. I kept reciting “Tits and Ass, Long Beautiful Hair, that’s what they want.” I had Botox injected into my lips, going for that pouty, Hollywood look that I thought men would be attracted to. I bought the most expensive make up I could find, even though it set me back financially more and more with each trip to the store. Oh and did I mention all of this at 93 pounds, close to 20 pounds less than my average (and quick frankly ideal) weight?
I went to a local medical office for my breast implants. Did I have a consultation prior to the surgery? Yes. Did they go over the pluses and minuses physically, emotionally to getting them? Yes. Truth is, manipulation was part of my plan. I was able to convince this doctor that I was super fit and I could look amazing with the new “additions”. Of course, I was somewhat listening to the dangers of these augmentations. Post operation, I was in so much pain. It was so painful physically that I couldn’t allow myself any room for being happy emotionally. I was almost comatose for 48 hours after surgery. Adding to my physical pain, my mother was very hard on me. She complained and was very negative towards this decision. “You should have left your body they way God intended it”, my mother would say. I have to say looking back, these breast implants worked against me. My clothes didn’t fit, my body actually looked fat in my normal clothes. Instead of reveling in the fact that I had “big tits”, my emotions were more like fear. The fear of what my mother would say when I would visit or if she saw me leave the house. I continued to seek the brass ring of acceptance from men and was going about things with such blinders on.
The reality was the image of myself was ugly from head to toe, from body to soul. Looking back, my plan to reconstruct myself from the outside in was doomed from the start. Superficial beauty creates “eye candy”, creates lust. Voluptuous breasts and long, flowing locks sell magazines, make men’s heads spin. These “eye candy” types were out of league. I could never compete with them with the natural package God created me with. I had to go through this re-invention of Monique just to get a sense that I could be a player in the dating game, let alone find my true love and hopefully my soul mate. But in the end, I was still ugly inside. I strongly feel that because I put so much pressure and stress on changing who I was – body and soul – I suffered a fate that I don’t wish on anyone. Cancer.