As transcribed by Paul Rudnick in The New Yorker:
"The reality-show personality Heidi Montag recently underwent ten plastic-surgery procedures on a single day. Montag told People that, before deciding to take these measures, “I prayed about it for a long time and said, ‘God, if it's wrong, then I won't do it.'"
The full text of Montag's prayer has only recently been made available:
Dear Lord:
As You probably know, because I guess You sort of know everything, I'm thinking about having a mini brow lift; lipo on my neck, waist, hips, and thighs; a chin reduction; an ear job; fat injections in my cheeks, nasolabial folds, and lips; a revision of my previous rhinoplasty; a redo of my earlier breast implants; Botox injections in my forehead and frown area; and a buttocks augmentation, if that is Thy will.
I won't go ahead with any of this if You don't approve, but I keep thinking, Why would God have made my plastic surgeon, Dr. Frank Ryan, so totally cute if He didn't want me to use him? Although, of course, I also wondered, Why did God make my hips and thighs, both inner and outer, a teeny bit chunky, and why did He dig those grooves around my nose? But then I thought, Maybe because God creates so many gazillions of new people every day there are bound to be some manufacturing imperfections, so in a way my nose is just a facial Toyota. Or maybe my parents never prayed enough, so God said, “I'm going to teach them a spiritual lesson by sending them a daughter with low, almost angry-looking eyebrows.” I bet that Angelina Jolie's mother prayed every second of the day, especially for Angelina's lips. Sometimes I just want to call up my mother and say, “Gee, thanks, Mom. Maybe I wouldn't need to have my ears pinned back if you hadn't spent so much time worshipping Satan.”
But I'm probably just being selfish, and I'm sure that You get tons of requests about correcting body parts. I mean, the cast of “Desperate Housewives” must have You on Speed-Prayer. And I know that my body-image issues aren't Your No. 1 priority, because there are starving people and the ozone layer and this girl I know from my TV show who has, like, enough cellulite to stucco a split-level with a three-car garage. And I don't think that I'm special in any way, so, even if You can't get back to me, like, today, it's totally O.K., because maybe there's a hurricane somewhere, or an earthquake, and a lot of the victims will be asking, “While You're saving my leg, could You also do something about my older daughter's upper arms, because she isn't getting any younger, and I don't want to have to send her over to the next village?”
More at The New Yorker…
