In the wake of President Trump’s executive order banning immigrants from seven Muslim-majority countries, my friends and I have been thinking about plastic surgery for the first time.
The answer, we thought, was simple: it is the most beautiful thing I have ever done.
My friends and family have told me that I look great, they say, I have no wrinkles or cuts, and that my lips are the size of walnuts.
This is not a statement that everyone can agree with, of course.
There are some who consider the look unattractive, and others who have found it extremely appealing.
But I am not one of those people.
The answer to this question has come to me in my own personal journey.
I have always been a very self-critical person.
As a young girl, I remember sitting in the back of my family’s van, my mother in the driver’s seat and my brother in the passenger seat, listening to the news about our nation’s immigration crisis.
It was during this time that I began to wonder about my appearance, and my future as a mother.
My sister, who was also a child, told me she liked me and that I looked “perfect” and “nice” and that her parents were “fantastic”.
I was also interested in my mother, and we often spoke about her family.
In the summer of 2006, I attended a group dinner at my grandmother’s house in a rural community near the border with Mexico.
My family had invited me to the dinner because of my mother’s health and because of our shared interest in the immigrant community.
My mother, who is now 82, died in 2008 and had undergone multiple procedures, including two liposuction surgeries.
At the dinner, a friend told me about the liposuctions that my mother had undergone.
One night, my family had dinner at her house and while I was eating, my grandmother said, “We are all here to eat with you, but you are not going to have liposuctions.”
“That is what I said, because my mom was doing liposUCTions and liposUTRATIONS, and I am doing lipoUCTIONS and lipoUTRations.”
I asked my mother if I could have a liposectomy to prevent the infection from spreading. She said, “No, thank you.
I have had two lipoCTIONS.”
My family and I agreed to go to the dentist, but my grandmother told me I should go to my aunt and ask for a lipoOP surgery.
I did not know what to expect, so I decided to ask my grandmother for a plastic surgeon.
I drove to her house, and as I sat down on the couch, I told her about my experience at the dinner and asked if she would be willing to have a second surgery.
We got dressed, and at the time, my hair was very long, my skin was very tan, and there was a lot of makeup.
We drove out to the Mexican border and waited for our turn to have the surgery.
After about a week, my aunt told me the surgery was scheduled.
She was not the most well-known plastic surgeon in the area.
She was a small-town girl from a small town in New Mexico, but she had been doing cosmetic procedures since the 1970s.
As I sat in my car, my sister, sister-in-law, and sister- in-law’s friend came over to me and said they were worried about the operation.
They said that it would not look good on me.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, but I feel like my face looks ugly,” my mother said.
When I told them this, they asked, “Did you tell your mom about the surgery?”
I said I had told her.
They were so excited, I said.
They started crying.
After the surgery, I wore the same white dress that my grandmother had been wearing, but this time I removed all the makeup and the hair and wore a new wig, as well as a black wig with gold extensions.
After we finished the procedure, my grandma and I went to the airport, where my sister-a graduate of a medical school, and her sister- a doctor of obstetrics and gynecology, who were attending the same medical school as us, accompanied me to San Diego, California, where I flew to Mexico City, Mexico.
My family and friends were there to welcome me to my new life, and it was very emotional.
My aunt’s mother, sister, and aunt had all flown out of the country to welcome us.
Before I left for Mexico, my grandparents called me.
“Grandpa, this is Jolie,” they said.
“She was waiting for you.”