Dear RB,

I’m finding it difficult to talk to my sister after her plastic surgery.  HELP!


Dear Before & After,


 like to think that I’ll never get plastic surgery. I’ll never need it. Hell, I may never be able to afford it anyway. But never say never, and actually, I’d like to be able to afford it, even if I don’t get it. I may just buy a home instead, or even a second home…one in a village, or a beach, or a galaxy, far, far away.

I’ve lived in a few homes, apartments that happened to have mirrors on the closet doors in the bedroom. It’s not what sold me. Although one definitely helped make the place feel bigger, which was nice. But then I’m also faced with myself, a lot. Which is also what happens when you have your own place. You talk to yourself. You look at yourself in the mirror, because, you can’t help it. It’s right there. Reflecting.

Do I like everything about my face, my body, even my personality? No. Do I like waving to myself in the mirror? Sometimes. Do I like being able to see myself having sex in a mirror? Depends on who I’m with.

We met at a little cocktail and finger food party I threw. He came with one of the attendees but not as the date. Someone had suggested I throw a little “I’m single, bring a single friend that the other single friends won’t have met yet” party. Of course, everyone was rebounding, because, as one friend that night said, “Every person who is single is on the rebound. Some are just in denial about it.” Of course, that friend was quoting me having said that to her after her last break-up. (I actually said a whole lot more but I’ll bring up those ditties another time.)

So, I have a bunch of single people at a party at my place. No, we didn’t all screw each other, but there was a lot of glancing around the room with slanted eyes, sly signals, whispered plans and overt moves. My conquest caught me in the kitchen as I was refreshing the ice bucket. “Now’s a good time to admit to each other that we think the other is cute,” he declared as he made me a drink with bourbon, marmalade, orange bitters, and one other ingredient from the bar he kept secret. The drink was delicious and so was he. We traded witticisms. “You know your way around my kitchen.” and “I’d like to tour the rest of you.”

 “Perhaps,” I replied, “perhaps.” He then kissed me, and that was a kiss to say yes to.

After more conversation, flirting, boozing, my friends and new friends left. Some paired off, some left alone, some went to try their luck at bars or booty calls elsewhere…but he stayed.

While I was in the bathroom, he got into director mode. He re-designed the lighting and made a pyramid with the pillows on my bed. He undressed and then undressed me and propped me Cleopatra-style onto the bed. He then asked me if I watched myself having sex a lot.

“Sometimes, “ I acknowledged and said aloud, “Depends on who I’m with.” He then touched me so that I quivered and asked, “mind if we film tonight?” I told him, “No cameras on the first night.” And that he’s moving quite fast. He slowed down. The foreplay was…really good. When he went to get a condom, he adjusted his phone that was on a little tripod. I hadn’t noticed this set-up when I came in. I asked him if he was filming us. I, actually didn’t wait for him to answer, I got up to see for myself.

I was amazed. He had managed to mostly keep just his face in the frame. He sure knew his marks. He explained, “I’m documenting my expression, when I come. How it changes or doesn’t change each time as I age. Don’t worry, I’ve done this so long that I forget that the camera’s there. I don’t act or fake it. You’re the first girl I’m doing this with outside of my girlfriend. My ex-girlfriend. She left me for my agent. Soon to be ex-agent. I’m sorry, I didn’t explain this to begin with. I just couldn’t resist when I saw your room cuz I can capture my expression reflecting in the mirror. I like the layers. I’ll be respectful. I’ll blur you out if you end up in any of the angles.” He was talking too much now but not enough to dissuade me. Simply, if/when sex tapes get made, I’m going to have the control over them.  From that point on, my phone, my computer, my editing. I also downloaded his original video of us and erased it from his phone and the cloud.

It was actually great. The sex and the sex tape. So great that the ones we made became the centerpiece of his project. Yet, we did not become the center of each others’ lives. There’s more to say, but we just didn’t click. Even though the director took direction well, he was still quite narcissistic. Sometime later, he invited me to a loft party and was going to publicly screen the series for the first time. I told him I’d go, but only if I could keep my anonymity. He said he’d prefer me to be anonymous too, and that he had superimposed his new girlfriend’s face into a sequence in which mine had been blurred out. (We did the blurring together, on my computer, so, yes, I have the original, unblurred version). He said it was better if no one at the party knew it was me, or his new girlfriend/agent, might get upset…she’s the jealous type. The video series started with his ex (his before), then I was blurry in the middle, but then it transitioned and emerged to his current girlfriend (the after), on my body at first and then her body. But the focus is always his face, so you don’t see much in the way of bodies. In my case, a shoulder here, a dimple of Venus there. 

My sister insisted that we go to the party and maybe cause a little trouble, or be tame little flies on the wall. It was my sister who invited this guy to my party to begin with, (they’re local coffee shop friends) and she was determined to make up for it with being my wing woman so I could make a new match. 

My sis wore a dress that revealed her own dimples of Venus, but I didn’t make the connection until after her nose was a bloody pulp.  It appears that both the before (ex) and after (current gf) of monsieur the director assumed the mystery middle girl was my sis. I was flaunting legs not back that night, and they failed to notice in their drunken rage that she doesn’t have a telltale skin tag on her back that I have, (and can be seen clearly) in said video series. Not bright lights these two!

The ex punched left, the current gf punched right, and my sister was down for the count. Her nose was broken and in need of plastics. It always takes me a moment when I see her now, like when you see Jennifer Gray, you also see a flash of her Dirty Dancing face as she carries a watermelon. It’s burned into our pop culture minds…like staring too long at the sun. But my sister’s new nose does look quite nice, and those bitches with monsieur the director, paid out big. Eventually it garnered him some publicity, and his time lapse orgiastic mug toured around the world. He’s still dating that crazy ass chick and I hear their bedroom is all mirrors. He still contacts me every now and then asking if I have the original video, I don’t respond. I’ve chosen to keep my anonymity until now. Whatever.

So my advice to you B&A, either speak up if the timing is right or go soft focus when you encounter your sister. You’ve got to have each other’s backs, even if genetically they may not be quite the same.

Until we meet again,