All my life, I’ve tried to do the right thing. I’ve worked hard. In fact, I’ve never missed a single day’s work. And yet here I am in debt up to my eyeballs. Why, you may ask? Well, the fact of the matter is that my wife has an addiction. No, not a drug addiction.
She has an addiction to plastic surgery. It all started when someone jokingly mentioned to my wife that she shouldn’t put her chin down because she had a double chin. For the first couple of weeks, I caught her staring at her reflection in the mirror at her profile. And then, one day she came home from work, she informed me that she was getting a facelift.
I said, “What for Pamela? There’s nothing wrong with your face. I love your face the way it is. Please don’t.” 
I went on a business trip, and when I came back, Pamela’s neck and chin were wrapped in bandages. I stared at her for several minutes without saying a word. And then I all but screamed, “what have you done to yourself, Pamela?”
“What do you think? I got a facelift. And I think I’m going to get my nose done too and I’m going to have injections in my lips. My lips are too thin. I’ve always been self-conscious about it. My nose has a big bump in the middle. It’s awful. As soon as my face is healed, I’m getting my nose done. There’s no discussion. I already made the appointment.” And then she went into the living room and turned the TV on loud. She didn’t say another word for the rest of the day. I didn’t know what to say to change her mind. I went upstairs to our bedroom and unpacked my things. And sit down on the side of the bed. I really had no clue what to do. I was afraid of what would happen next.
The month went by before I knew it. I kept telling Pam, “I love you just the way you. Please don’t get the nose job done. But the following week, when I came home from an overnight work trip, she had a bandage across her nose, and her eyes were black and blue. It looked like she had been in a fight and came out the looser. I said, are you alright, Pam? Are you in a lot of pain? Please, please tell me you’re done now?”
” She said,’ I’m fine. Don’t fuss, Tom.”
When she finally had the bandages off and the swelling went down, I saw her nose looked utterly different. I was shocked. Not only did she have the bump on her nose removed, but her nose also looked narrower, and the tip of her nose was now turned up. I gasped when I saw it. “Pamela, you’re nose looks completely different. What did you do?”
“Well, the doctored suggested that my nose was too broad for my face. And perhaps I should consider getting it narrowed. And then I said, “yes, you’re right, it‘s really wide. And you know what? I always wanted to have my nose tipped up. And voila, I have the nose I’ve always wanted. Do you have a problem with it?”
I stared at her with my mouth opened. ” Problem? Yes, I have a problem you don’t even look like my wife anymore. Are you done now? Please tell me you’re done? I loved you the way you were. Please, please stop.
But she didn’t stop. I became reluctant to go on business trips. I obsessively checked her phone and calendar to see if she had scheduled a new surgery. I didn’t know what she might do to herself while I was away on business. I received a warning from my boss. I worked in the marketing department. Business trips are a part of your job. He said, “either do your job or start looking for another job.”
I didn’t have a choice. And I found that I was going on more business trips than ever. And sure enough, every couple of months, I would come home, and Pamela would have had some additional surgery. Sometimes she would have some liposuction done around her stomach or her thighs. And then Pam started getting implants. First, she had a breast lift and then implants. She didn’t stop with the first implants. She kept getting larger and larger implants. And then cheek implants. Because she always wanted high cheekbones. She no longer resembled my Pamela. The young woman I married. It was surreal.
About eight months after Pamela started the plastic surgery, my health insurance notified me that Pamela had far exceeded the limits of our health insurance policy and that they were not paying any new claims. I received a bill from Pam’s surgeon’s office stating that Pam had an outstanding balance of forty-five thousand dollars. I almost lost my mind when I read the outstanding balance.
I called Pamela and told her that we would have to have a serious conversation about her plastic surgery addiction. Pam had the table set and a wonderful dinner waiting for me when I got home. So I thought, great, she’s trying to make amends. She realizes that she can’t go on with these surgeries.
Pam didn’t want to discuss the doctor’s outstanding bill when I arrived home. She tried to put me off. And then she said, “Tom, I might as well tell you now, you’ll find out soon enough, but all our credit cards are maxed out too.”
“How much do we owe Pam? You better tell me now.”
“I don’t know exactly, but somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty thousand dollars.”
“Another fifty thousand dollars in addition to forty-five that we already owe?”
“Yes, that’s almost a hundred thousand dollars. Have you lost your mind?”
“No, a lot of people have plastic surgery.”
“Pam, this has to end. No more. If you get any more procedures. I’m done. I will file for divorce. You need therapy. This has gone too far. I don’t feel like I know you at all anymore.”
“Tom, you are overreacting. Calm down.”
“Calm down, have you lost your mind? You spent almost $100,000, and you think I should calm down. You need help. You are an addict. I can’t live with it anymore. No more plastic surgery. No more.”
“Well, Tom, I have already scheduled several more procedures. You can’t stop me.”
“I have stopped you already. I have canceled all the credit cards and taken your name off our bank accounts. I have informed the bank that you are no longer allowed to take any money out of my accounts. They are frozen, and you can not open any credit cards in my name. You have no credit. I’m done with your insanity. I’m done with you. I’ve contacted my lawyer and filed for a legal separation. You’re on your own now, Pam.”
“Tom, I promise I’ll be done after these last two procedures. Give me another chance.”
“No, Pam, I’ve given you every chance. And your fixation on the way you look is sick. I hope you find happiness and contentment someday. We’re finished. The next day I contacted my lawyer and told him to go forward with the divorce that we had irreconcilable differences because of Pam’s addiction to plastic surgery. And that she had spent all our money savings and destroyed my credit.
I hope that Pam will find happiness sometime in the future. She needs to believe in herself. That looks fade with time. And that she has value beyond her appearance. The week after I spoke to a lawyer, I found out that Pam had attempted to take a second mortgage out on our house. I contacted my lawyer, and he said, “you can’t get away from this woman too soon. She is out of control.”
So here I am six months after our divorce was finalized. I’m living in a small rented house. I still miss the old Pam. It’s almost as if she passed away. Because the Pam I knew no longer exists. Several friends have attempted to fix me up with single women they know. But I turn them down every time. I can not imagine going through this again. I’ve decided to get a dog instead. If we ever run into each other, I won’t even recognize her. What can I say, “life goes on.”
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