One last time: When I looked in the mirror and saw my mother,
it was time to pay another visit to my friend, the cosmetic surgeon

I just had my final cosmetic surgery. I had my eyes done for the second time.

In the past, I’ve had a facelift, a forehead lift, liposuction on my neck and laser surgery. It’s been quite a journey.

I was certain I was done, but recently I noticed globs of fat forming on the side of both of my eyelids. The doctor told me it was genetic and sure enough, my mother had the same thing. Regular readers of this column will recall that my mother and I had a very difficult relationship, so the thought of turning out to look like her made me scream. I was obsessed with my eyelids. Strike that. I was obsessed with my mother’s eyelids because they were appearing on my very own face.

For the past year, I asked my friends if they noticed the globs on my eyelids. They said no. But I was relentless. I told them to look closer, then even closer, then closer still, until finally they would admit to noticing something. “Yeah, I guess I can see what you mean,” they would say, reluctantly. “But I can hardly see it.”

Their vision needed improvement. What they couldn’t see looked to me like two cantaloupes resting on my lids.

I wasn’t sure what to do about my lids until my cousin Barbara came to visit me. The two of us are very close. She arrived after having a facelift and both her upper and lower lids done. Seeing the end result was all it took. My cousin is eight months younger than me and about 80 pounds thinner, and she looked like she was 40. Her surgery was a complete success. Always pretty, Barbara was now simply beautiful. I was jealous.

Keep in mind that I’ve never been jealous of my cousin — well, except because of her naturally thin body. But on the day she walked into my house with her newly sculpted face and perfect eyes, that ugly green monster surfaced.

It was time for me to get my eyes done.

I immediately called a surgeon in New York City, who happens to be a friend, and said, “I have to have an emergency eye job.” He replied, “Come in tomorrow and let me take a look at you.” I went into his office, he took a look, and I finally got the validation I’d been looking for. “Wow, those fat globs have got to go!” he exclaimed. His honesty was music to my ears.

So last week, I had surgery. It only took an hour and went smoothly. Then I had to lie down for another hour before heading for home. I didn’t even need any painkillers — I had no pain at all! But I did have to ice my eyes constantly to help with the swelling.

I look a lot worse than I feel. Right now, I look like I went nine rounds with Mike Tyson and lost. But the globs are gone, and it won’t be long before I’ll be able to look in the mirror and say, “Linda, this is as good as you’re gonna get.”

No matter what I do, I know I’ll never look like Catherine Zeta-Jones. But I also know I’m not going to look like my mother, and that’s good enough for me.

What’s on your mind? I want to know about it! Send your questions to lrichman and don’t forget to check out my Web site at www.lindarichman.com.