Ever since I was little, I've been conscious of my eyes, mostly because of the teasing and stereotypes at school because I happen to be Vietnamese. However, the issues did not stop there, because my own relatives would always harass me about it too. When I was about three, my mother suggested that I go get double eyelids one day, just like she did before I came to America. Then, my grandmother and my aunts started suggesting it too, so it became a bit of a mantra for me.

As I got older, the heckling in public would come and go, but my relatives never stopped. My self-image worsened. I tried everything from strange exercises to extreme makeup to try to help the problem, but nothing would work. By the time I was fourteen, I had gone through more sticks of eyeliner than any little girl should have. This was also when I found out that I had weaker eye muscles than most people, which would make me seem less alert.

At the end of my freshman year, I spent hours fumbling through web pages looking for as much information as I could about the surgery. The most informative sites happened to be the clinics themselves, where alternative methods and diagrams of the procedures could be found. The idea that just thirty minutes under the knife would fix one of my huge complexes was simply unfathomable, and I soon developed an obsession with all things related to cosmetic surgery that almost spiraled out of hand. In December of that year, I reached out to one of the clinics in South Korea and asked the consultant which method would be right for me.

I didn't tell anyone that I wanted to, as I put it, "Cut my eyes open and stitch them up again." I kept it to myself until arrangements were actually made my senior year, and also because of the stigma behind plastic surgery. The thought of being told I was fake or that I hated myself or that I was lying about how I looked nagged at me for a while and made me doubt my choice more than once in the days leading up to the operation. While I think that minor plastic surgery is okay (not one of those extreme transformations), I do get why others are not so comfortable with it. My family's reaction was resoundingly positive, and they even paid for part of it. My closest friends reacted well and were even happy for me. I realized that I would get criticism no matter what I did, so I marched my way into a Vietnamese doctor's office one afternoon and came out with my eyes numb and stitched up.

During my procedure and recovery, I learned a lot. My doctor was a cheery guy who played Classical music while he sliced my eyes open, and he described everything that he was doing. After the surgery I was told to ice my eyes every day and that they would swell up and look horrifying for a few days before they would look good. Recovering was the most terrifying part; it wasn't glamorous at all. The cuts were red, my whole eye was swollen and everything felt exhausting. I had to wear sunglasses when going out in public because my eyelids were an angry shade of red and the stitches were very obvious.

Once the stitches came off, I felt freer, but at the same time, I was still conscious of my very large and obvious creases. The weight of the ptosis was off of my shoulders, though, or rather, my eyes. Forget your perceptions about plastic surgery because going under the knife alone doesn't make a person beautiful since recovery times range anywhere from a month to over a year. Even now my eyes are still recovering, and a closer look would show that they are a bit asymmetrical.

After I was allowed to wear makeup again and the swelling decreased greatly, I showed most of the people I knew that my face had changed a bit. Most of the reactions were positive, though there were a couple of people who did not understand why I had it done and told me that I looked better before or that I should have stayed natural. It was increasingly disheartening but I knew that not everyone would just accept what I had done, even though it was my own face and the change was quite subtle. I certainly haven't lied to anyone about my double eyelids because I think there is really nothing to cover up.

While my eyes look much better now, plastic surgery is not a miracle worker. Many recipients of plastic surgery will come back for more or tweak something every once in a while because the idea of being able to change how you look with just a few tools is fascinating. Soon, they find that their face will never look how they want it too, or they've gone too far and are no longer recognizable. I've had those moments where a nip and tuck would seem nice, but that obsession with plastic surgery has come in handy because it has taught me to make the best of what I have instead of getting into procedures that are risky and could be permanently damaging. Self-acceptance may still be a struggle for me, but it seems that the prospects are quite sunny.