The agony of crow's-feet

ABC continues to build its legacy of skin-deep programming with a new installment of "Extreme Makeover," in which the road to fulfillment goes through the plastic surgeon's office.

By Heather Havrilesky

Apr 24, 2003 | Now that the wildly unpopular reality show "You're Not Hot" -- uh, I mean, "Are You Hot?" -- has convinced you that your looks fall somewhere between mediocre and repulsive, ABC has brought back "Extreme Makeover" (Wednesdays at 10 p.m.), the next logical step in the kind of skin-deep programming the network is becoming known for.

If Lorenzo Lamas' laser pointer didn't make you feel deeply ashamed of your smallish breasts, uncapped teeth or soft inner thighs, the scalpel-happy experts at "Extreme Makeover" will pick up where Mr. Burrito-in-my-pants left off. The show launches with dramatic before and after shots of the participants from the first edition, which aired last December. A booming Jerry Springer-style voice-over explains that in the next seven episodes contestants will be treated to the same highly expensive glamour scientists: a plastic surgeon, a cosmetic dentist, a wardrobe stylist, a personal trainer, a hair stylist and a makeup artist. While Lamas and company approached the crucial task of setting contestants straight on exactly how hot they were with the solemnity of morticians, the geniuses behind "Extreme Makeover" take it one step further, chirpily singing the praises of beauty as the pathway to a whole new life.

Then, of course, they cheat. The show's first contestant has such an obvious reason for wanting surgery that they might as well call it "Extreme Deformity Correction." Kiné Corder has an upper lip that's so large, the inner portion splits vertically and looks a lot like an uncorrected cleft lip. In case you think I'm exaggerating, take it from the cosmetic dentist who sits in on Corder's plastic surgery in part because, as he puts it, "In 20 years of practicing I had never seen redundant tissue like that." Other than this one obvious flaw, Corder is an attractive, stylishly dressed, seemingly confident woman.

Before telling Corder that she's been chosen, though, cute and perky host Sissy Biggers needs to know just how awful it is not to be cute and perky. Corder recalls years of name-calling and insecurity as a teenager, and says she doesn't like to kiss because her lips are so big. "Sometimes when I break up with people, I think, like, 'OK, did he let me leave because he never really liked my lips anyway?' But because we never talked about it, I never know."

Corder admits that she hates talking about her flaw, but she's willing to risk it for a chance to win free plastic surgery. "This is really crazy when I think about it," she says, tearily, "because the 'Yes' [to be on the show] only comes if I open up, but I can only take the 'No' if I don't." She squeezes her eyes shut. "If I don't, I wouldn't have talked about it ever -- I would've been 65 years old and still never talked about it."

A teary-eyed Biggers finally pulls the trigger and tells Corder she'll be on the show. "This is incredible!" Corder says, wiping away her tears. "Why'd you make me cry?!"

Because it makes good television, honey. So does a mom with three small kids who, at 40, looks about 50. Then again, Tammy Guthrie isn't wearing any makeup for the first half of the program, her hair is laughably unstyled and stringy, and she's consistently shot in sweat pants and a T-shirt, leaning over her kids' homework or walking them to school. She has dark circles under her eyes and some acne scars on her chin, but otherwise all she seems to need is a tiny amount of concealer and a hairbrush.

Not so, explains a voice-over. What Guthrie needs (or, as they're careful to put it, what she wants) is an eye job, a face-lift, scar removal, fixed teeth, collagen injections in her lips and -- bonus! -- a brand new nose. But "Extreme Makeover" doesn't merely imply that most slightly haggard-looking 40-year-old women need brand new faces (if only everyone could afford one!), they take it one step further and hint that Guthrie's current inability to color her roots has deep psychological roots.

Voice-over: "Tammy's devoted herself to doing everything for her family. But the constant grind has worn her down at only 40 years old."

Guthrie: "All my life I've always taken care of other people ... One of my biggest goals in life was to give unconditional love to my children -- for them to feel safe and secure, for them to feel wanted [breaks into tears] ... for them not to feel neglected ..."

Voice-over: "But in focusing all her attention on her children, Tammy's neglected herself."

Guthrie (tearily): "If you really want to be good to yourself in the long run, if you want to be good to your kids, you can't be selfless. You can't totally sacrifice yourself for other people."

Voice-over: "Armed with this newfound knowledge, Tammy has come to a life-affirming decision."

Guthrie: "This is just something Mommy's gotta do for me."

Sounds like what Mommy really needs to do "for me" is go straight to the nearest therapist's office -- OK, maybe she could swing by Sephora on the way there, plus maybe a stop at Barnes & Noble for a copy of "Co-Dependent No More." But this is TV! We've got no time for talking cures or even fancy eye creams! Scalpel, please!

Next Page: Surgeon: "This is one of the best days." Cut to close-up of a line draining blood and liquid from Guthrie's head

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