 |
|
The Cosmetic Surgery Directory BlogWelcome to The Cosmetic Surgery Directory Blog, a resource for people interested in plastic surgery. This consumer-friendly website can be used as a central resource to answer your questions about plastic surgery. Information about Cosmetic Surgeons and Plastic Surgery. |
|
Archive for October, 2010Boob Jobs and Corpses – Lady MacFaustThursday, October 28th, 2010 Our final creepy Halloween tale is a bastardization of several Renaissance classics with a silicone twist. I like to call this one “Lady MacFaust.” I’m sure Marlowe and Shakespeare are turning over in their graves. Lady MacFaust grew up on a dairy farm in rural Pennsylvania. From the time she was a young girl, she always dreamed of being a glamorous model. Late at night, after the rest of her family would go to sleep, she would sneak out into the barn to practice her runway walk. Her determination was unyielding, and despite the dismissive disparagement of her Amish parents, she was confident that one day she would have the last laugh. On the eve of her 18th birthday, Lady MacFaust ran away from her dairy prison, vowing to never return again. She hopped on a Greyhound bus headed for Los Angeles, armed with a pipe dream and a sense of romantic naivety that would soon be shattered as she gets thrown to the wolves in the rat race that is the L.A. modeling scene. Yes, that’s right. Our poor Lady MacFaust found that breaking into the modeling scene was far more difficult than she imagined. After years of perfecting the perfect runway turn, she figured fashion magazines would be falling all over her to sign her to a lucrative contract. Unfortunately, what Lady MacFaust failed to realize was that she was not endowed with the proper genetics to take the L.A. modeling world by storm. With her 5’4” frame, shaggy red hair, pale freckled face, and paltry A-cup breasts, she didn’t stand a chance against the local California stock – the devastatingly attractive 5’8”, long-legged, blonde bombshells who held a stranglehold on the modeling scene. Oh, and their perky, augmented C-cup and D-cup breasts didn’t exactly hurt their cause either.
By her 19th birthday, Lady MacFaust was a broken girl – beat down by a long year of constant rejection at the hands of luscious, big breasted California beach models. Her romantic naivety had completely eroded into a sense of utter desperation. With very little money left in her Amish piggy bank, she was in danger of returning to her milk farm captivity where she would be barraged by a litany of condescending “I told you so’s” from a her self-righteous family. This was an unacceptable fate. It seems that by chance, the devil was lurking in the underbelly of Los Angeles just at this very moment, looking for a new trophy to place on his fiery mantelpiece. His last victim, Lindsay Lohan, had long been at rock bottom. With no prospects for a second act, the devil had recently pulled the plug on Lohan, claiming her soul for all of eternity. In an effort to break free of the boredom that had engulfed him in the wake of Lohan’s dramatic demise, the devil decided to pounce on the meatball laid out there by Lady MacFaust. The devil conjured his powers of manipulation to transform himself into the form necessary to entrap his latest victim – he became a talent agent. The agent approached Lady MacFaust one evening while she was drowning her sorrows in a bottomless glass of whiskey. He offered her a fool-proof path to the fame and fortune she so desperately sought.
“You have potential, but it has not been properly developed,” he explained to Lady MacFaust as she guzzled her fifth glass of Bourbon. “With my help, you can be the most famous model on the planet.” Lady MacFaust’s ears began to perk up. “The first thing we need to do is get you some breast implants so that you can compete with the rest of the lot in this silicone-enhanced cesspool. I’ll make an appointment for you with my plastic surgeon for early next week. He’s the best in the business. He’s performed breast augmentation on all of the A-list Hollywood celebrities. But I’m warning you, this will not be enough. We have to overcome your frizzy red hair, pasty freckled face, and diminutive height as well. This will require a little bit of my magic. I have the power to transform you into the prototypical supermodel, but in order for my powers to work, you will have to take the lives of three famous supermodels – Heidi Klum, Alessandra Ambrosio, and Marisa Miller. Only then will I be able to provide you with the right match of physical traits to make you the world’s next great supermodel.” While Lady MacFaust had always been a good girl, her recent tough times had endowed her with a moral flexibility that she never imagined possible as a young Amish girl growing up on a dairy farm in Pennsylvania. Killing these three women seemed like a small price to pay to accomplish her life’s dream. Without hesitation, she signed the devil’s contract. Of course, she never read the fine print stating that her soul now belonged to him. The next week, Lady MacFaust visited the agent’s plastic surgeon to undergo breast augmentation. Little did she know, but the plastic surgeon was also the devil in another one of his trusty disguises. His hands worked magic on her, providing her with beautiful breast implants unrivaled by any other. Lady MacFaust was starting to believe. Several weeks later, fate (possibly through the manipulative powers of the devil) presented her with a golden opportunity. All three supermodels were appearing at a Victoria’s Secret event in downtown Los Angeles. The devil arranged for Lady MacFaust to get hired as a server at the event and provided her with a special poison which would be undetectable by autopsy. Lady MacFaust placed a few drops of the poison in each model’s drink. The next morning, they were all dead and Lady MacFaust had transformed into a 5’9”, blonde hair, blue-eyed bombshell with perfect breast implants to support her new body. She was in utter disbelief. Her dream was about to come true.
Within days, the devil was able to land her high profile modeling contracts – cover shoots for Maxim and the Sports Illustrated swim suit issue. Even Victoria’s Secret decided to bring her on in an attempt to replace their recently deceased lingerie models. Lady MacFaust’s star was rapidly rising. She became an overnight sensation, adorning the walls of horny teenage boys across the world. It was everything she always dreamed it would be. She was the next great supermodel. But Lady MacFaust’s Amish moral code began to gnaw away at her conscience. She became overwrought with guilt over her murderous actions. She started having trouble sleeping, and over time, she began to unravel. Every time she looked at her new breast implants, they appeared to be covered in the blood of the three supermodels who fell victim to her unchecked ambition. Lady MacFaust began to fear that others could see the blood as well. She began regularly rubbing her breasts to rid them of this blood. At first, this rubbing of her breasts only caused a minor disturbance to the photographers who were patiently waiting to take her picture. After a few quick reminders, Lady MacFaust would stop this rubbing and return to posing for the camera. But over time, this rubbing became more frequent and more vigorous. Her sponsors began to wonder what was wrong with her. Was she so infatuated with her breasts that she could not leave them alone? Could she be this vain? Was she just a horn-dog better suited for porn than for magazine covers? Eventually, it got to the point where she couldn’t be photographed without it looking like she was groping her breasts in the picture. Her constant breast groping became an occupational hazard. While she may have been the most beautiful supermodel on the planet, her inability to keep her hands off her boobs ultimately drove away all of her employers. No one wanted to be associated with someone that narcissistic. As quickly has her star rose, it began to plummet. She returned to the devil, demanding that he work his magic once more. But it was too late. Realizing the end was near, the devil revealed himself to Lady MacFaust. He informed her that there was nothing more he could do for her and that it was only a matter of time before her soul belonged to him. In a fit of rage, Lady MacFaust grabbed a steak knife from her kitchen counter and began gouging out her satanic breast implants. Bloody silicone shot across the room as her efforts intensified. After a few minutes, the symbol of Lady MacFaust’s undoing lay on the floor in a pile of lumpy, bloody silicone. But this wasn’t enough for Lady MacFaust. Still seeing the blood of her victims all over her chest, she continued gouging. And gouging. And gouging. Pretty soon, she was nothing more than a hollowed out carcass. The devil returned to Hell with her soul in tow, yet another trophy for his fiery mantelpiece. Don’t be like Lady MacFaust. Don’t let the devil perform your breast augmentation. He may provide you with perfect results, but you may lose your soul in the process. Instead, please contact experienced Newport Beach plastic surgeon Dr. Douglas Hendricks today to schedule your initial consultation. He may not turn you into a supermodel, but at least you’ll keep your soul. Posted in Breast Augmentation, Breast Implants | No Comments » Boob Jobs and Corpses – Tainted Implants (Part 2)Tuesday, October 19th, 2010 And now for the thrilling conclusion to “Tainted Implants” — a story of demonic possession and of course, silicone… When these women died of unnatural causes – which was almost always the case with the Organ Miner’s cadavers – the spirit of the dead woman would enter the breast implants and stay housed in the silicone. Once inserted into a new body, these tainted implants would gradually come to possess their new owner, bringing the souls of dead back-alley crack whores, strippers, and junkies to Marin County in droves. Peculiar stories began to surface as these straight-laced housewives began taking on the personalities of their possessed breast implants:
At first, these incidents were only occurring sporadically. These women would experience strange urges which they would struggle to suppress. But with each passing transgression, the spirit inside the breast implants would grow emboldened, tightening its grasp on the soccer mom’s soul. It was only a matter of time before these women were unrecognizable to their loved ones. It didn’t take long for all of Marin County to degenerate into a cesspool of sin and decadence. Middle age women shirked their domestic and parental responsibilities as they succumbed to a life of drug addiction, prostitution, and theft. Marin had become the Tenderloin. And there was no logical explanation for the transformation. Eventually, a few angry husbands formed a support group. They would meet once a week at the San Geronimo Cultural Center to share horror stories of their formerly respectable wives who were now diving into the deep abyss that is the life of a crack whore or a junky. At one of these meetings, one angry husband made a startling discovery – each man in attendance had a wife who received black market breast augmentation from the Organ Miner.
The next day, several men from the support group traveled to the Tenderloin to visit the Organ Miner. When they arrived, he was ripping a set of D cup implants out of a dead transvestite hooker with track marks running all the way up each arm. A wave of emotions fell over these men – shock gave way to disgust, which ultimately became anger. The Organ Miner had no chance. Before he knew it, he was strapped down on one of his mortician tables with an IV tube attached to a vein in his right arm. The angry husbands then proceeded to pump all of the tainted silicone into his blood stream. Gallons upon gallons of possessed implant innards began flowing through his body. There were literally hundreds of dead crack whore spirits fighting for supremacy in his soul. It wasn’t long before the Organ Miner went insane. In a fit of rage, he grabbed a scalpel and gouged the vein receiving the tainted silicone transfusion. The angry husbands cowered as blood began spurting across the mortuary, splattering the walls with dark crimson Rorschach blots. The angry husbands returned home to Marin determined to reign in their wives, who were now thoroughly running amok through town. Before leaving the mortuary, they stole the Organ Miner’s supply of valium. It didn’t take much coaxing to get these voracious pill poppers to dip their fingers in the valium jar. In their sedated state, they were brought to legitimate plastic surgeons who removed the tainted implants. Of course, this was wishful thinking on the part of the angry husbands. Once a soul is possessed, it takes more than removing a set of satanic breast implants to release the soccer mom’s true essence. This incident gave new meaning to the mommy makeover procedure. Unfortunately, the true victims were the husbands and children who were forced to live under the same roof as these hedonistic, overly promiscuous, drug fiend women. Marin County has never been the same since. If you aren’t too scared to find out what degenerate soul is lurking in your new set of breast implants, please contact the Los Angeles, California plastic surgeons at the Bray Plastic Surgery Medical Center today to schedule your initial breast augmentation consultation. Editor’s note: The ideas in this story are strictly the product of the writer’s imagination and do not reflect the views or opinions of the surgeon. This story is meant to entertain those who enjoy the Halloween spirit. Posted in Breast Augmentation, Breast Implants | 1 Comment » Boob Jobs and Corpses – Tainted ImplantsThursday, October 14th, 2010 Deep in the heart of San Francisco’s Tenderloin district, a mortician of loose moral fiber made a living selling off the body parts of the dead bodies delivered to his doorstep. Essentially, his mortuary had become a chop shop supplying uppity, affluent men and women with body parts that they could not otherwise find by legitimate means. He justified his reprehensible existence by convincing himself that he was saving lives – men and women who would normally spend years on waiting lists for kidneys, lungs, eyes, hearts, and livers were able to receive desperately needed organ transplants before it was too late. He became known to those with black market connections as the Organ Miner.
Unfortunately, the men and women lucky enough to receive these emergency organs had no idea they were signing their own death certificate when they chose to roll the dice with the Organ Miner. He took these organs from the only people who could have their bodies carved up like pumpkins without anyone ever knowing or caring – the crack whores, strippers, and junkies that populated the seedy back alleys of the Tenderloin. Generally, the organs pulled from these upstanding citizens were worse than the failing organs residing in the bodies of the wealthy suburbanites in need of a transplant. They would receive lungs caked with black tar from 2-pack-a-day cigarette addictions developed by age 12, livers thoroughly rotted from decades of boozing, and hearts so hopped up on cocaine that their new owners felt like they were constantly in the throes of a panic attack. Eventually, the word got out that the Organ Miner’s product was tainted and could not be trusted to last as long as the failing organs they replaced. This was a severe liability, even on the black market. As his supplemental income stream began to dry up like a creek after a drought-filled summer, the Organ Miner began entertaining other means to profit from the misfortunes of his cadavers. While the real body parts may have been worthless, the surgically enhanced parts were an untapped gold mine. When the dot-com bubble burst at the end of the 1990s, many wealthy suburban soccer moms were forced to forgo needless surgeries such as breast augmentation and liposuction in order to make due on their newly reduced budget. Always an opportunist, the Organ Miner pounced on this chance to revitalize his chop shop. Within a matter of months, his walk-in freezer was filled with silicone breast implants removed from the strippers and back-alley crack whores who fell victim to the hard-living ways of the Tenderloin. Pretty soon, the word got out that these implants could be purchased for half the price of a legitimate breast augmentation procedure. Women began making appointments at the Organ Miner’s mortuary to “identify their wayward cousin who had disappeared several weeks ago.” The “body identification process” generally took anywhere from 30-60 minutes as these women would walk through the freezer, giddy as a kid in a candy store, comparing the latest additions to the fleet – DD cup implants from a stripper who OD’d on heroin last week, C cup implants from the hooker who was shot after turning a trick in a motel that sold rooms by the hour, and a more modest B cup implant from the junkie that who was too high to realize that these implants didn’t do anything to enhance her natural pair, which were actually larger than her implants. Several days later, these women would return to the Organ Miner’s chop shop to “make the final arrangements for their deceased loved one,” and when they left several hours later, they were the proud owner of a new set of breast implants. On the surface, it seemed like a win-win situation for everyone involved. The Organ Miner raked in cash hand over fist, and suburban soccer moms from Marin County got a perky new set of breasts on the cheap. But supernatural forces were at play which would ultimately bring the Organ Miner’s new black market breast implant empire crumbling to the ground, igniting a scandal that would make headlines from coast to coast. The harrowing details of the supernatural scandal rocking the suburban soccer moms of Marin County will be revealed in next week’s blog post. Please check back to find out the stunning conclusion of our first Halloween-inspired plastic surgery tale. Posted in Breast Augmentation, Breast Implants | 1 Comment » Boob Jobs and Corpses – An IntroductionFriday, October 8th, 2010 Last week, I was combing the newswire looking for some new freakish plastic surgery tales to sarcastically tear to shreds in my blog. It was a relatively quiet week in the world of plastic surgery – if you ignore the fact that Sheyla Hershey had her 38KKK breast implants removed and the Botox Bandit was sentenced to probation. Yeah, they kind of sucked up all the major headlines, while everything else paled in comparison. Except for one rather curious entry on my “plastic surgery radar.” It instantly piqued my attention despite being grossly overshadowed by the two main events in last week’s news. This choice nugget was not a news article or a blog post. No, it was an honest and innocent question raised by an inquisitive mind: “What happens to breast implants in buried corpses?” I have to admit, this question has never once crossed my mind in my two plus years writing this blog. It seems pretty asinine and begs for the response, “Get a hobby!” Yet, some insatiable curiosity was roused deep inside my gut as soon as I read the question, and I instantly needed to learn the answer. Of course, I would be denied in my thirst for this knowledge, but not for a lack of being entertained. While the women who posed the question clearly has an active mind, she lacks the brainpower to put this activity to good use. Here is how she so eloquently phrased her question: “When a person with silicon breast implants dies, and they are buried, do their fake boobs just stay in the ground. And also, If a person is cremated, do they have to remove them do to air pollution concerns.
If a person does have fake boobs, shouldn’t they be indifferent at the funeral home and be disposed of as industrial dissipate?
Instead, I would like to thank her for the monstrosity she has inspired. I have decided that I will answer this question properly. Not once, not twice, but three times. In three different ways. But wait, there’s a twist… Each answer will be in the form of a scary story about breast implants and dead bodies. Consider this my Halloween-themed plastic surgery blog series for the month of October. Each week until Halloween, I will write a new installment of the “Boob Jobs and Corpses” series in an attempt to answer the lofty question, “What happens to breast implants in buried corpses?” Of course, I may take a few liberties. The corpses in my stories may not exactly be buried. They may be legions of the Undead, praying on the silicone enhanced bodies of the characters I’ve written about in past blogs. Or they may be silicone zombies praying on the living, breathing, survivors of botched breast augmentation fiascos. Or they may just be twisted tales concocted by me which are tangentially related to breast implants and dead people. Consider me the Cosmetic Surgery Crypt Keeper, regaling you with my weekly harrowing tale of blood, lust, murder, and of course, silicone. Hehehe.
Stay tuned for next week’s post, when the real insanity begins. If you are not scared yet, don’t worry. You will be. You will be. But for now, please contact experienced Albany plastic surgeon Dr. Bruce Barach to schedule your initial breast augmentation consultation. If you wait any longer, I may have you too scared to ever go through with the operation. Bwah-ha-ha-ha! Posted in Breast Augmentation, Breast Implants | No Comments » Sheyla Hershey’s World Record 38 KKK Breast Implants are Down for the KKKountFriday, October 1st, 2010 Follow-up posts are the theme of the week. After discussing the Botox Bandit’s probation sentence yesterday, I will delve into yet another favorite topic today. Sheyla Hershey is breast implant queen no more. Her massive 38KKK breast implants have officially gone down for the KKKount. At the Cosmetic Surgery Directory blog, we have been following Sheyla’s escapades for several years now. We first took notice when she upped her breast size to 34FFF several years ago. We thought that was already going a bit too far, but Sheyla was determined to push the limits of excess a bit further – all in the name of fame and glory.
Sheyla has stated in several interviews that one of her life’s dreams was to have the world’s largest breasts. When American plastic surgeons refused to gift wrap that dream for her, she packed her bags for Brazil, where the plastic surgeons are apparently a little more apt to sell out their scruples for the right price. Sheyla returned home from her Brazilian breast augmentation vacation with brand new 38KKKs and a place in the Guinness Book of World Records. Shortly thereafter, Sheyla discovered that there was a serious price to pay for becoming the undisputed breast implant champion of the world. Her silicone behemoths did not want to cooperate with her body, and a nasty staph infection developed that ultimately threatened her life. Yet Sheyla would not be derailed in her quest for supreme breast implant vanity. She was living her dream and God dammit, she wasn’t going to let something silly like a life threatening staph infection shatter that dream. That is, until now. I’m not sure why the light bulb finally went on, but Sheyla has done a 180 and decided that her life was more important than her gaudy implants. As of now, Sheyla Hershey is implant-free for the first time in many years, and it is a bitter pill for her to swallow: “I know it’s going to be a lot of pain on me because I love to have them, but I realize that my family comes first and I love my daughter and son and they come first. Even though I love to have huge breasts, I don’t know why, I’m just addicted to it; I’m going to try to live without it. Hopefully, I will be done then and be happy and just running around with my kids!” Yes! Run around with your kids. That’s one thing you can do now that you couldn’t do with that 38KKK silicone albatross bouncing around on your chest. I’m sure Sheyla hasn’t thought about running in years. Maybe she will get inspired to take up tennis now that she can run again. Maybe she can take her kids to Brazil – the site of her breast augmentation disaster – and they can run along the beach together. I can picture a montage scene reminiscent of Rocky III (when Rocky keeps racing with Apollo along the beach).
At first, we would see the undisputed world breast implant champion version of Sheyla trying to run with her kids, but her massive boobs would just keep bouncing up and down, hitting her in the face. Maybe we’d even see some silicone shoot right into her eye as she trips and stumbles onto the sand. Can you picture the look of dejection on her face? The utter embarrassment as she wipes the sandy silicone out of her eye? But then she sees her kids frolicking down the beach, and that look of shame turns to one of determination. Sheyla will rise again. As we hear the Rocky theme music in the background (“Gonna fly now…”), we also encounter a leaner, meaner, slimmer, more flat-chested Sheyla doing her best impression of Marion Jones along that same Brazilian beach. The sweat is pouring from her bleached blonde hair as she tries desperately to catch her kids in full sprint. At the final moment, she bursts by them and they all dance around in the ocean together. It is a cinematic moment for the ages – one that sings the praises of silicone redemption. Of course, this version of the film omits the scene where a large black plastic surgeon with a Mohawk and 30 pounds of gold chains around his neck deals Sheyla’s implants the ultimate knockout blow as he says, “I pity the fool who thinks she can stay undisputed breast implant champ for long. Fool, you ain’t got nothing on Dr. T!”
If you live in the Dallas, Texas area and would like to challenge for Sheyla Hershey’s successor as undisputed breast implant champion of the world, please contact experienced Dallas plastic surgeon Dr. Vasdev Rai to schedule your free initial consultation. Posted in Breast Augmentation, Breast Implants, Undisputed Breast Implant Champion of the World | 3 Comments » |
|
The Cosmetic Surgery Directory Home | About Cosmetic Surgery | Plastic Surgery Articles
ASPS Stats | Cosmetic Surgery Associations | Cosmetic Surgery Blog HTML Site Map | Plastic Surgery Links | Plastic Surgery Procedures | XML Site Map
Disclaimer: The information throughout The Cosmetic Surgery Directory is not intended to be taken as plastic surgery advice. The information throughout The Cosmetic Surgeon Directory is intended to provide general information regarding cosmetic surgery and to help you find a local cosmetic surgeon. If you are interested in cosmetic surgery, contact a cosmetic surgeon in your area.
|
|
 |
|
