[We modern peeps are K-K-RAZEE!!]
I wanted to look like a K-Pop star. So I went to a plastic surgery clinic
Here is the story — and the before and after photos of my transformation.
Here is the story — and the before and after photos of my transformation.
SEOUL, South Korea — There is a glamorous nouveau riche neighborhood in Seoul called Gangnam. You may have heard the song. Gangnam is renowned for its culture of beauty and style. And its plastic surgery.
Hundreds of clinics cater to fashionistas seeking
convenience and speed, sometimes at half the price of what you’d find in
a place like Beverly Hills. For people in Seoul, this is a place of
affluence, of hyper-consumption and high-velocity trends.
It’s a world I’ve never really understood. The Gangnam Dream
is nothing like the American Dream I grew up with in the sleepy suburbs
of Chicago. But the obsession with plastic surgery in South Korea — my
home now — runs so deep, I decided I should try to learn what it is all
about.
So I’ve decided to join the ranks of Gangnam high society by
dropping into one of Seoul’s biggest plastic surgery clinics. My goal
is to transform my face. I want to look like the nation’s most beloved
rapper, G-Dragon.
South Koreans get more nip and tucks per capita every year
than most anywhere else on Earth. There are endless stories here of
crazed fans taking their passion too far, disfiguring their faces with self-administered cooking oil injections, or enduring garish makeovers to turn their seemingly imperfect foreign faces into perfect Korean ones.
An estimated one in five Korean women has undergone
treatments, according to a 2009 survey. According to a government
watchdog, the nation commands one-quarter of the $21 billion global
plastic surgery industry, attracting close to 300,000 medical tourists
last year — the bulk of them beauty seekers from China, Japan, Southeast
Asia and the former Soviet bloc.
The Consultation
Me, on the other hand — well, I’m a modestly paid writer
with little time for cardio or even a full night’s sleep. And since I
don’t rap with a pink hairdo and thick eyeliner, I remain deprived of
squealing female fans. Today, I begin my effort to correct that.
The decorated physician Dr. Jong-pil Chung greets me in the consultation room of the Cinderella Plastic Surgery and Dental Clinic.
Dr. Chung has made it his life’s mission to help people find the right
look. As the clinic’s chief physician, he serves as a cosmetic adviser
to South Korea’s most prominent actors and pop singers, and teaches his
craft at one of the nation’s most prestigious medical schools. I’m in
good hands.
Examining my x-rays, Dr. Chung explains that G-Dragon’s face
isn’t quite like mine. This I already knew. G-Dragon has a slender and
balanced structure, which is beloved “all over the world,” according to
the doctor. My contour, on the other hand, is layered with more fat and I
have a wide jaw, beloved it seems only by my mother. Dr. Chung says the
transformation will require some invasive bone-piercing along my
mandible and cheekbones. But he promises that under his guidance, I can
awake from the operating table with a facial contour “80 percent” like
G-Dragon’s.
To start, the doctor will perform a common procedure on my
forehead. Mine is not as smooth as G-Dragon’s, so Dr. Chung says he’ll
make it “rounder” with a forehead lift, cutting through extra skin and
pulling it back to be wrinkle-free. My eyes also droop too much and are a
little asymmetrical, requiring an eyelid incision to perk them up. At
this point old insecurities I thought were long buried are surging back
to the surface.
Should I go for a pair of Asian eyes so I look more like
G-Dragon? “It is much easier to make Asians’ small eyes into big
Westerners’ eyes,” he says, citing the difficulty of “removing” the
double eyelid. He said most patients don’t seek out Asian single-fold
eyelids, but choose the Korean look because it is somewhere “in the
middle” of Western and Asian beauty.
“Many Koreans are tall and their cheeks and chins are slim,”
he said, elaborating. “Their eyes are long and big. Their noses are
slim and high … Koreans’ faces are very attractive.”
Fair enough.
Next, we venture into more extreme procedures. My facial
contour, he says, will be spliced and reshaped during hours of jaw,
chin, and cheekbone treatments.
Dr. Chung mandates a painful package of fixes: a cheekbone
reduction, a “v-line” surgery around my chin (to make it pointier),
liposuction underneath it, botox injections, and the sawing of my
mandible. He reassures me that he won’t cut any nerves — a common
concern when patients visit Gangnam for double jaw surgery, a South
Korean fad that gives the face a slender, more feminine look.
I hesitate at the prospect of enduring so much agony. But
then comes some good news. My nose bridge is sufficiently raised and
pointed. It’s just like G-Dragon’s — a look that legions of patients
seek here in Gangnam. I feel suddenly inspirited. But the final
prognosis is bleak: I will need a total of six operations for my eyes,
forehead, facial contour and skin. And it will cost $26,700. I’m
doubtful GlobalPost will reimburse me for this one.
Dr. Chung says he could complete the full raft of procedures
in just five to six hours. The recovery will take longer. It will be a
week until I can remove the stitches, two weeks before I can cover my
incisions with makeup, and at least six months before my new face is
restored to normalcy and is free of swelling.
Just the start
Surgery, Dr. Chung says, is only the beginning of a lifelong
transformation. He reminds me to maintain a fierce exercise regime to
attain G-Dragon’s muscular physique. Liposuction around my belly will
help, he says. But fat will linger in places that can’t be reached.
The thought that even after tens of thousands of dollars and
months of recovery I will still have to work out on a daily basis is
exhausting. If this is only the start, what sort of brutal, lifelong
regimen must the K-pop elite endure?
I left the Cinderella Clinic with a newfound respect for
what celebrities must go through — they must have a stoic work ethic and
an Olympic endurance — to stay beautiful. From their early teenage
years, aspiring K-pop stars often sacrifice their lives and education,
scouted by intensive training schools that prepare them for potentially
huge success. Most of these ambitious youngsters fail. A small number go
on to fame across Asia, earning millions upon millions.
After the hour-long consultation, Dr. Chung says something
surprising. He tells me, consolingly, that there is more to life than
looking like G-Dragon. “You are already handsome right now,” he says.
I give it some thought as I exit to the streets of Gangnam,
joining the crowds of synthetically altered men and women, sporting
rounded eyes and flawless v-lines, their faces slathered in whitening
cream.
Yukyung Huh contributed reporting.
No comments:
Post a Comment