Keeping with the theme of things that should not happen, I’d like to share something I ran across the other day that put me into full-blown “Holy…wow” mode.

Ladies and gentlemen, you may want to take a Dramamine, because you could get a bit queasy from your head spinning around. Presenting:

Oh sure, it looks innocent. However, behind its pretty pink exterior is pure evil. Okay, maybe not pure evil, but certainly not child-friendly material. Michael Alexander Salzhauer, MD, you see, is not a pediatrician. He’s not an OB/GYN. He’s not even a psychiatrist. Oooooooh, no.

Michael Alexander Salzhauer, MD is a plastic surgeon.

My Beautiful Mommy isn’t a book about appreciating your mother. It’s not a book that teaches little children how special Mommy is. It’s an explanation of why Mommy looks different after radical cosmetic surgery.

Holy. [Censored]. Wow.

Apparently, Dr. Salzhauer — anybody else thinking Sleazehaur? — felt that little ones wouldn’t understand why mommy’s “sweater puppies” (a phrase daddy probably shouldn’t use) have suddenly become Great Danes. In the book, Dr. Michael — a superhero, of course — helps Mommy get a smaller tummy, nose, and bigger breasts, because, as mommy explains, “as I got older, my body stretched and I couldn’t fit into my clothes anymore.”

Being the sensitive type, Salzhauer doesn’t touch on Mommy’s new bazongas — after all, it’s “My Beautiful Mommy” not “My Beautiful Mammary” — saying that children might not understand breast augmentation. What a saint.

I’ll admit, it probably is hard for children to understand what has happened when Mommy comes home from the hospital looking like she’s been beaten by a street gang, then emerges from the bandages looking like Pamela Anderson. However, I don’t quite think a children’s book glorifying plastic surgery is the answer — little girls are already bombarded with enough negative messages about their bodies, they sure as heck don’t need a kiddie book telling them that they’ll only be beautiful if they have their honkers super-sized.

Now, don’t get the wrong idea. I’m not against plastic surgery; I believe it is very useful for some circumstances, both physical and psychological. To be entirely honest, there are a few places I wouldn’t mind having touched up. However, I don’t think a picture book with a post-procedure perky-breasted Mommy getting a full-body makeover is the way to convey to small children that they’re perfect just the way they are. I’m not sure I know what the right way is — if Mr. Rogers was still alive, he would know — but I’m positive it involves an honest-but-age-appropriate discussion with the child, and certainly not a storybook that conveys the message that saggy-stomachs and B-cup breasts make women ugly.

I think it’s an application of a larger, more disturbing trend: Being a parent means talking with your kids, not relying on someone or something else to do it for you.

Original story from Newsweek via BoingBoing.