My first encounters and attempts to wear makeup occurred at home as my sister Roz, five years my senior, was dabbling in Wet ‘n’ Wild lip gloss, eye shadow, and blush. Most likely deemed inappropriate by my mother, I was eager to paint my face like my sisters and felt excited by the end result, which left me looking something like a clown. These early experiences left me interested but not obsessed. From elementary to high school, I only wore make up on special occasions such a sleepovers when I was younger, and Friday nights when I was older.
Unlike many babies of my generation, my ears were not pierced straight out of the womb. After observation of my female peers during preschool, kindergarten, and first grade, I came to the conclusion that it was necessary to have pierced ears and joined the force of my sister in their plea to pierce their ears. My mother had no piercings of her own as she felt the act of creating an unnatural hole in one’s body was unnecessarily barbaric. In an attempt to maintain rules and power, my mother told my sisters and me that we had to wait until we were older to pierce our ears. Roz finally gained permission against my mother’s recommendation and got her ears pierced sometime in middle school. Ellen, the second born, two years my senior, and I weaseled our way into not having to wait until middle school but only until second grade. When second grade finally came for me, I was excited and nervous for my trip to the jewelers in the mall. Besides the two gold earrings I would be receiving to go along with my piercings, I felt I was moving up in the world, since in my mind, everybody who was anybody has pierced ears. I also felt a sense of accomplishment and triumph over my mother, as I knew she did not approve of my actions, but was taking me to do it anyway.
For most of my life I have been seen and known as the girl with long, bright blonde hair. There have been only two periods when I did not have long hair and two when the natural blonde coloring was modified. The first time I went from long to short was in fourth grade. I really only remember going in for a generic cut but during the cut, I gave the stylist permission to go short. She ended up cutting it to a little above my chin—a change I later regretted. I think, in the moment, I wanted to something different, something people weren’t expecting, but I didn’t think it through very well because from then on, I was on a mission to grow it out long again. There is one picture of my from that era when I always joke that I look like boy as my scrawny, tall build, my short hair, and my style portrays a very androgynous person.
Once my hair had grown out, I moved towards hair dye as an impermanent way to modify my look. Again, both my older sisters had begun dying their hair various shaded of green, blue, purple, and pink and I wanted in on the action. One day, when a friend of mine was over, we decided it would be a fun activity to dye my naturally bleach blonde hair with streaks of magenta using a Manic Panic, a dye my sister had not finished off as there was enough remaining in the container to do a little damage to my head of hair. It was one of her many colors which she had bought at Hot Topic, a painfully punk rock poser store mostly filled with preteens looking for a wild shirt, hair dye, or chained belt to buy and shock their parents with.
In only a few hours, my friend successfully painted six streaks—from root to tip—of magenta into my hair. Such an experiment was exciting for the 12 year old me, as I was the first in my friend group to modify my body in such a permanent way. The color eventually faded, but the feeling of excitement and pride were the more lasting marks left.
A year and a half later, it came time for me to graduate from middle school and move up in the world to high school. While many other people experienced most of their development in later years, in 8th grade I was 5’11” and almost the same weight I am now—6 years later, age 19. I was very aware of my body and how other people saw me. I was a healthy14 year old with a body that could easily pass for 18. Just as my sister Ellen had done, I was determined to look wonderful on this special occasion and shopped all over Los Angeles for an appropriate dress. With the main concern being my body image and how confident I felt in my outfit, I persuaded my mother to buy me a designer summer dress from Bloomingdales.
The only issue was that I did not like how my stomach, hips, and butt looked, as the fabric was light and did not suck in or hide very much. It was at this time—again, against the advice of my mother—that I did as my sister Ellen had did, and bought a “Body Slimming” undergarment that is built to suck in one’s stomach, hips, and butt. Aside from the fat that squished out from it where it pinched at the waist, and the fact that is was tight and uncomfortable, I was very satisfied with how it as it made my figure look slimmer in the dress. While I have never gone to lengths great enough to surgically remove the fat that I do not love in those reigns of my body, I have used the same body slimmer more than once and enjoyed the sense of confidence it give me when someone might be looking at me from behind or from the side. It is almost like the constant pressure that I feel against my body as I’m wearing it is a constant reminder of how I am looking tighter and more compact in my midsection.
A month or so after my graduation and first weeks in a high school summer course, I died my hair again. This time, a friend painted the last 3 and a half inches of my 18 inch long hair a vibrant shade of red. For me, this was just another brief display of the unpredictable, wild side of me as I enjoyed attention and standing out.
Two years in to high school, I was introduced to the art of the push up bra. Tagging along on a movie and shopping trip with my neighbor Martine and her friends, all of whom I was familiar through Ellen, I found myself in a Victoria Secret dressing room with five girls all trying on the same push up bra in various sizes. I was shocked at the difference the bra could do for even the flattest girls and as 32 A, I immediately wanted one. The following school day, without hesitation, I informed all my friends of this wonderful discovery and lead my own expedition back to “Vicky’s Secrets” to let everyone see for themselves. The inevitable purchase of this $43 bra was done after I had acquired a partner in crime willing to buy her own and had saved up enough money to actually afford it. The rare and special occasions that I wore the bra, again, gave me a boost of confidence and sex appeal that I found so rare and valuable during my high school years. While some of my friends harbored minor amounts of judgment and disapproval, I did not dwell on their feelings as I felt that eventually, they would value my attempts to alter my appearance in minor, noninvasive ways and probably come to follow my lead. And now, almost five years later, this has proven to be true.
Something else I happened to experience before most of my good friends was the involvement in a long time relationship for 15 months. While I do not regret anything that occurred, Keyvan and I are not together now, as we decided that in November of 2006. There were many reasons for the inevitable end, but one element that I believe affected me more than others was not feeling beautiful enough for him.
While we were together, he would joke that if I ever died or cut my long blonde hair, he would break up with me. While we were both catty and blunt from time to time, this comment was not one I let go of easily. Towards then end of our fall down, I became very annoyed with my long hair and suggested to my friend that without telling anyone, I might just cut it all off. In the end, the day after our break up, I cut 16” of my hair and dramatically altered my look. It was a liberating experience as it had been 10 years since I had had short hair. Essentially, the adult version of me had never looked too different. 
Cutting my hair helped prove to my self that I am my own person who does things for myself and no one else. Like many women, I felt that the new look gave me a clean slate to wash the pain of that relationship off of me and start fresh again. I also feel that long hair is associated with the typical, classic beauty and to be confident, and sexy with short hair is a much harder feat. Before the cut, I truly believed that my best physical asset was my hair. Now I am able to see myself beyond the curtain of hair, and it feels great.
As a 19-year-old sophomore in college, I have done many things to modify my body, but I know the process is far from over. Although I have not pierced any more holes in my body yet, I have harbored the idea of an eye brown piercing for a while. I wanted one ever since I saw MTV’s The Real World, sometime during middle school, where one of the cast members, Elka, gets her eyebrow pierced during the season. I was particularly drawn to this member, as I admired her natural beauty, unique name, and thought her British, punk rock, boy friend was equally enticing. I always assumed I would pierce my eyebrow during my college years as I felt it didn’t fit my image in high school. Unfortunately, my sister, Ellen, pierced her eyebrow two years ago. Now that I am older, I want to do my own things and move away from copying my older sisters’ every move. Bitter that she pierced the one item I always thought to pierce for myself, I have withheld from such a piercing and am still thinking it over.
So far, I am not interested in any surgical procedure to alter my body, but when reflecting on the modifications of my body thus far, I wonder, is there much difference between my intentions to modify my body and the intentions of those who get surgeries?
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