Maybe now that I looked more relaxed, I would be more relaxed, like I was 25 and still had several years to blow. I realized that the molecules of plastic in my skin would find some affinity with the rest of me, and I would prevail. Artecoll, this weird artificial substance that lay just under my skin, couldn't compete with this feeling. I knew that the following morning, I would pick my daughter up from Grandma's, and we would go down to the river and practice rock skipping. Miranda Lee is a freelance writer in Northern California.
Plastic surgery leaves a hole in the soul.
The business of breast cancer Big medicine is making big bucks on the disease, but we're still far from a cure. When you have no vacation days left, it's time to kill off beloved members of your virtual family. The hurt is all in your mind. The hurt is all in your mind.