My heart was beating so hard it felt like a drum being hit inside my chest. All i wished for was to be beautiful, and soon my only wish would come true. My friends and family all told me i was perfect but still my face seamed deformed and hideous inside my mirror and eyes that reflected the truth. Having BDD -Body Dysmorphic Disorder- has been a huge weight on my life ever since puberty hit, and now it would change forever. Forever i will be beautiful. A true betty.
"Please, darling. You don't need to do this.". My mother would never understand my monster face. I waved her away as my hospital bed rolled down the cold hallways of the local hospital. This operation was going to happen whether anyone liked it or not. I will be beautiful. I will be beautiful., I chanted in my mind. Doctors all around me with blank faces rolled me straight into the operating room touching their icy fingers to my wrist telling me i'll be alright. As a wild guess, my face was probably ghost white. As a nurse with peppermint breath pressed the Anesthesia mask to my face i slowly drifted off into a deep sleep, trembling with excitment.
My eyes cracked open to let day glow light burn my pupils. Is the operation over? Am i pretty yet? A murmer cracked the silence. "Oh, You're awake now." My mother sat next to me with tears in her eyes, lip quivering, white knuckles from squeezing the arm of her chair too tight. My head swam with doubt. I felt the urge to scream at the sudden jolt of agony that swam throughout my body and the numbing tingle on my face right below my nose across my left cheek. "Give me a mirror, mom. Hurry!". Panic choked my so hard i stopped breathing completely. A dirty little compact mirror was held to my face to let my eyes dart across the surface to see the tragic accident put apon me. The only sound left in the hospital was a screaching cry from my stitched lips. I attempted to jump out of my bed and tear my itchy sheets off my pale skin. How could this happen? How could anyone be so careless with a patients face? Nausia kicked in. So did the hurt that knocked me to the ground.
Ten years have passed ever since the doctor dropped his scalpel onto my skin, opening it up severly. Four-houndred and sixty-two stitches saved my face, but not quite the scar left behind. I just wanted to be beautiful. Strangely enough, with two daughters and a husband, i do feel beautiful. I was fine the way i was before, i just couldn't see it through my disorder. Thirty eight and smiling, i never felt better. Even with my sewn skin, I am beautiful. And no surgery will ever make me better.