Pardon my scratch

Life would be better if I were a cat.

I first began to see the joys of felinity because of my friend Leah Vough. During our freshman year of college, she told everyone what kind of cat they were based on their appearance or personality. Her roommate was an alley cat, her friend Erin's sister and her fiance were kittens, and I was a old cat because sickly old cats get bright blue eyes. We have several pictures from Leah's sorority formal posing like cats. I got in the habit of hissing and meowing whenever I saw Leah.

Cats have always appealed to me more than dogs. Dogs are stupidly friendly and rough. In contrast, cats are more selective with who they give attention and seem much more poised. To put it in Gossip Girl terms, dogs are like Serena while cats are like Blair. Maybe that is a bad comparison. Dogs are far more sensible than Serena.

Unfortunately, I have been grossly allergic to cats since I was in kindergarten. I played with my neighbors kittens up until the point that I had a serious asthma attack and was hospitalized for a week. No more cats for David.

This past fall, I discovered that if I take allergy medication before playing with cats and wash my hands afterwards, I am mostly fine. This made things much more enjoyable at Leah's Fun Fall Farm Fest--her farm is swarming with cats, and it would be tortuous to look at them and not be able to touch.

I think my favorite part of being a cat would be curling up in the sun and taking a nap. As a family pet, my only natural predator would be the three-year-old who likes to pull my tail. My naps would be filled with simple dreams of birds and mice, and I would sun my furry grey body, enjoying the luxury of heat and serenity.

When I woke up, I would immediately ascertain each family member's location so that I could avoid them. I would then go searching for something to catch, play with, and eat. Cats, like vampires, enjoy playing with their food before eating it. Me becoming a vampire looks more and more doubtful everyday, so cat might be my second pick.

As a naturally clumsy person, I am also drawn to the perpetual balance and poise of the cat. I would adore staying up all night, gliding silently through the house, knowing that at least for the moment, I was in complete control. If I had been born in Egypt a few thousand years ago, I would have probably worshiped Bast, the cat goddess.

Since I do not want to go the Jocelyn Wildenstein route of cat-transformation, I may instead have to integrate more cat-like personality traits into my daily interactions. I can be secretive, shrewd, standoffish, and decadent. Actually, that does not sound too much like me. Maybe being a cat just sounds like a good idea in my head.

I do not think I will start eating mice. However, if I hiss at you, do not be surprised.

Love the plastics

I really do not have a problem with plastic surgery.

That is to say, I do not have a problem with reasonable plastic surgery. Some plastic surgery, like the ten surgeries that transformed beautiful Heidi Montag into Frankenheidi are excessive. Other crazies, like Jocelyn "cat woman" Wildenstein and poor Michael Jackson also took things too far. I may be strongly influenced by the two seasons of Nip/Tuck I watched, but I believe that plastic surgery can be perfectly fine if a few criteria are met.

First of all, the procedure must be a financially sound decision. Cosmetic surgery should not be pursued by someone who cannot afford it. If you cannot buy milk for your kids or a car to get to work, do not spend your saved up money on a nose job or bigger breasts. Furthermore, you should have a steady, good-paying job, money saved up for a rainy day, and practical things like a house, a car, and insurance before getting anything tucked or lifted.

Secondly, the plastic surgery must be relatively safe. Yes, there is always a risk, but let us be reasonable. If surgery poses a big health risk for you, do not do it. Ten procedures at once almost killed Heidi. Ideally, choose procedures with minimum anesthesia and minimum recovery time. No one should die trying to become more beautiful--regardless of how fat your stomach may be.

My third criteria may be the most important. You must genuinely want the procedure and find it difficult to be as happy without it. I have gotten into arguments with some of my friends who think that plastic surgery is simply vanity and only feeds our image conscious society. To a certain extent, I will admit that I agree with them. However, if someone hates their crooked nose or feels self-conscious of their uneven ears, they should stop complaining about it and fix it.

Ultimately, there is not much of a difference between plastic surgery and getting braces. No one thinks that braces are simply vanity and and should be avoided. Sometimes people get braces because eating would be difficult without them--in the same way, people get plastic surgery to repair burns or permit them to breath through their nose. However, it is more common for people to get braces for their crooked teeth and rhinoplasty for their crooked nose.

Of course, plastic surgery is a bit more extreme than getting your hair permed. However, a botox shot to the head is cheaper, quicker, and less complicated that years in braces. A little liposuction makes you look far better than buying hundreds of dollars of dresses ever could. When you meet my three criteria, plastic surgery is just another facet of the "looking nice" diamond.

We live in a superficial world where everyone is judged based on appearance. As a Christian, I am saddened by that fact, but do not react by becoming Amish. In fact, as a bit of a stylista, I like to wear what is trendy, spike my hair, and wear contacts. People everywhere dye their hair, dress up for work, and save up for the latest trends. Christians dress up for church each Sunday, acknowledging that their appearance says something about how they regard God.

To all you haters out there who still think all plastic surgeons should be put out of work, thank God that you have a reasonably symmetrical face and have the confidence to ignore your flawed features. Be thankful that you have people who love you despite your imperfect appearance, and parents who raised you to put your worth in more lasting things.

Not everyone has that privilege. That is why we have plastic surgery.