Wait, Christa, isn’t your other blog, FICTIONARY, for book reviews (a bit of shameless self-promotion)?

Yes.

Surely My Beautiful Mommy is a sweet children’s book that you’ll be promoting there, right?

Wrong.

I discovered this book when Tanya Dennis wrote about it on her blog, which I read on High Calling Blogs. I bookmarked this site weeks ago, fully intending to write about it, but I couldn’t keep my blood pressure in check long enough to finish the post. So, if this drops off mid-sentence, would someone Twitter 911…someone on there has to be a doctor.

Speaking of doctors, this book was written and self-published by Dr. Michael Salzhauer, a board certified plastic surgeon who specializes in cosmetic surgery in Bal Harbour, Florida. According to the bio on the site, Dr. Salzhauer’s performed “hundreds of beautiful ‘mommymakeovers’ during his career.”

He wrote the book, the site states, because as a father he knows that to communicate effectively with children, quality informational books are important. On that the doc and I agree. Any book written for an audience of children ages 4-8 that attempts to calm their fears about mommy having surgery would be worthwhile.

My objection is not to the intent of the book; it’s the subtext. And the text. This from an ABC  News story:

“Why are you going to look different?” asks the daughter of her mother in the car ride back from the doctor’s office. (The doctor must practice what he preaches because he’s wrestler-buff. I fear his dialogue, however, may have unintentionally reinforced a stereotype. He tells the girl and her mother: “Blah, blah, blah. Tummy. Blah, blah, blah. Nose.”  This, Dr. S. said, is purposely vague because he didn’t want to go into graphic detail about the surgery. Uh huh.)

“Not just different, my dear — prettier!” exclaims the mother.

When prodded by her daughter as to why she’s getting an operation — after all, the girl says, she’s already “the prettiest mommy in the whole wide world” — the mom explains how her clothes don’t fit properly anymore because of her stretched out stomach, presumably a result of childbirth.

By the end of the story, the mother’s formerly wrinkled tummy and crooked nose are flat and straight and, despite never saying anything about her chest in the plot, the mother’s breasts appear perkier too.

And they all looked beautiful ever after.

Now, the truth is, Dr. S. isn’t drugging women on the streets of Bal Harbour and dragging them into his office for these procedures. I doubt this book’s revenue or lack thereof will even be a hiccup on the radar screen of his net worth.

And, as long as we’re all about truth here. . .a bit of self-disclosure so I’m not labeled by those who know as a hypocrite. After birthing five children, weighing in at 8.4 pounds, 8.12 pounds, 12.5 pounds (twins) and 9.15 pounds, I could fold the skin on my tummy like an envelope and tuck it into my pantyhose. My muscles were so shredded, they just staged a protest and pretended to be hammocks. My doctor suggested an abdominoplasty (tummy tuck) that would serve to tighten the muscles and get rid of the stretched out skin.Oh, I was already scheduled for a hysterectomy. As she said, “We’re going to be in the neighborhood anyway. . .”

That was twenty years ago, and I still have the hip bone to hip bone scar. Was it worth it? Well, yes. Did I absolutely need it? Well, no. I could have allowed my back muscles to try to take over what the tummy muscles wouldn’t do and continue having back pain, and just make peace with what looked like a chicken hanging from my belly button.

So, I totally buy into the mommy’s stretched out skin issues. But the “cosmetic” aspect of a tummy tuck-at least for me-isn’t something all the world sees.

As the mother of daughters, Grammy of granddaughters, teacher of girls, what bothers me is the notion of making mommy “prettier” and the message that sends. The subtext is Mommy’s not quite happy with her body parts because they’re bulging (except for the breast implants) between her and prettier. And, the surgery isn’t explained as being to make mommie healthier or stronger.

The book was timed to hit bookstores on Mother’s Day, which gives me cause to wonder exactly what’s available in gift cards these days.

Not one of my children after my surgery remarked that my tummy was flatter. And I wonder what five-year-old is going to notice mommy changed bra sizes? Dr. S suggested the book answers children’s questions, but it seems to generate more questions than it answers.

Ultimately, My Beautiful Mommy is more an indictment of what society values. Salzhauer’s book, I hope, does serve to decrease children’s fear more than their self-esteem.

Should we expect My Buff Daddy anytime soon?