Michael Jackson On Body Image & Plastic Surgery

In a dimly lit room, Michael Jackson sat across from an interviewer, the weight of the world resting heavily on his shoulders. The mirror on the wall reflected not just his image but the myriad of emotions that swirled within him. The interviewer leaned in, asking, “When you look in the mirror, are you happy with what you see?”

Michael paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “In- in what way?” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. The interviewer pressed on, “Just when you look there, in terms of that social philosophy.”

With a sigh, Michael responded, “Uhm… I’m never totally satisfied. I always wished the world could be a better place. No, not at all. Y’know, hopefully that’s what I… do with my music. Bring happiness to people, and uh… to bring joy.”

The conversation shifted to the rumors that had plagued him for years—whispers of plastic surgery and a fascination with the bizarre. The interviewer, sensing the tension, asked, “Does it affect you? Does it hurt you? To see some of the idiotic stories that are written?”

Frank Dileo, Michael’s manager and friend, interjected, “Yeah, I’ll answer that question if you don’t mind. Uh… it hurts me, and if it hurts me, I know it hurts Michael. He’s a little more blase about it than I am. I mean, he just sort of shrugs it off, but I find it very terrible that some of the stuff that is written, particularly about plastic surgery, is not the majority of it—ALL of it is garbage and rubbish.”

Michael listened, his expression a mix of resignation and frustration. “There is nothing I could control in my life but my eating,” he said, reflecting on his childhood. “And Joseph told me, ‘Oh, you’re so black, or you have such a big nose.’”

“Did he tell you you were black?” the interviewer asked, surprised.

“Yes! When I was little. ‘You are so black you don’t look like my child. Your nose is so big,’ and this and that. They used to call me big nose and stuff, and instead of retaliating on them, I just did it with myself.”

The interviewer pressed further, “Michael? Are you happy with your face?”

“Yeah, I’m happy with my face and stuff,” Michael replied, a hint of defiance in his voice.

“Are you happy you did all the surgery?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

“Because I don’t want to look like Joseph.”

The conversation turned to the topic of plastic surgery. Oprah, who had joined the discussion, asked, “How much plastic surgery have you had?”

Michael pondered for a moment before responding, “I think it creates itself, nature.”

Frank chimed in, “He’s an artist; he has every right, and he is constantly modifying something or changing or reconstructing it or, y’know, working on some imperfection that he thinks needs to be worked on. If he sees something he doesn’t like, he changes it, period. He re-sculpted himself. He’s an artist.”

The interviewer continued, “Is it true that your father used to say you had a fat nose?”

“Yeah,” Michael admitted.

“What did he say?”

“God, your nose is big. You didn’t get it from me!”

The interviewer could see the pain in Michael’s eyes. “What does that do to someone who is going through adolescence?”

“You wanna die. You wanna die, and on top of that, you gotta go on stage in the spotlight in front of hundreds of thousands of people. God, it’s hard. I would’ve been happier wearing a mask.”

The interviewer pressed on, “What do you say to people who say, ‘well, when Michael Jackson was a boy, he was a black kid, and now as an adult, he looks like a white man’?”

“Well, you could ask God that; that has nothing to do with me, okay? And that’s ignorance,” Michael replied, his voice rising slightly.

“What do you mean it’s got nothing to do with you?”

“I don’t control, y’know, puberty. I don’t control the fact that I have vitiligo. I don’t control, you know, how many white people, when they’re little kids, look white, now they look—they sit out in the sun all day to look black. And the suntan lotion business is a multi-billion dollar business. Nobody says nothing about that.”

The interviewer nodded, trying to understand. “Are you trying to be other than what you are?”

“No.”

“So when they say things like you’ve had implants in your cheeks—”

“Oh god…”

“You’ve had a dimple made in your chin, you’ve had your lips enlarged…”

“Oh god, oh please, that’s stupid. That’s too much. None of it is true,” Michael insisted, his frustration evident. “They made it all up. They lie. They don’t want to give me credit for anything. One paper said I had each little hair transplanted into my face with a laser. How ignorant is that? I can’t even grow a beard now? You ignorant fool who wrote such a thing. So don’t believe that stupidity. Don’t waste your money on it, because when you’re buying it, you’re not buying something based on what’s true; it’s not the truth.”

The interviewer, sensing the depth of Michael’s emotions, continued, “You know, you’ve physically changed, haven’t you? The photographs of you, if I look at them—”

“No, it’s not adolescence; it’s called growing and changing,” Michael interrupted, his voice firm.

“Yeah, but even the shape of your face has changed,” the interviewer pressed.

“No, no, I see no—I’ve had no plastic surgery on my face, just my nose. It helped me breathe better so I could hit higher notes and have clear— the press is like the— I don’t know, nothing’s been done to my eyes, cheekbones, chin, lips, nothing. They made it all up.”

The interviewer shifted the topic slightly, “Do you think that people do go too far with plastic surgery? Generally. Do you think they come—”

“Well, it’s up to them!” Michael replied, his tone softening slightly.

“So why are you so defensive when people say, ‘Mick Jagger had one, Paul McCartney may have had one, oh, Michael Jackson’s had one!’?”

“They don’t do it that way,” Michael said, shaking his head.

“What do they do?”

“Because they pick on me like I’m the only one that does it, that’s why.”

“So if people said, ‘well, Michael’s the same as everyone else’?”

“Yeah,” Michael nodded. “Then it wouldn’t upset you so much.”

“Y’know, if you wanna have a facelift, you have a facelift.”

“Yeah! If it makes you happy…” Michael replied, his voice trailing off.

The conversation took a more somber turn as the interviewer noted, “The star, who spent his adult life morphing from one look to another, actually admits his own face repulses him.”

“I saw it on the computer. It made me sick when I saw it,” Michael confessed, his eyes downcast. “I look like a lizard, I look like… It’s horrible. I don’t like—I never liked it. That’s why I wish I could never be photographed or seen. And I push myself to go to the things that we go to. I just don’t want to look old. I hate to see people grow old, Shmulay.”

The interviewer, sensing the vulnerability in Michael’s words, asked, “He would see himself in the mirror with wrinkles. Did he ever talk to you about plastic surgery?”

“I used to tell him he has to stop; he swore to me he did, but he didn’t,” Frank replied, his voice tinged with concern.

The conversation shifted again, revealing more about Michael’s struggles. “Jackson also shared some disturbing details about his eating habits, confessing that on his ‘Dangerous’ tour, his friend, Elizabeth Taylor, literally had to force him to eat.”

“I wouldn’t eat. She took the spoon and would put it in my mouth,” Michael recalled, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“Really?” the interviewer asked, surprised.

“When I get really upset or hurt, I don’t eat. I just— I just don’t get—until I’m unconscious. Then they started doing it intravenously, you know? Because I just—my body breaks down; I won’t eat…”

The room fell silent for a moment as the weight of Michael’s words hung in the air. The interviewer, moved by the raw honesty, asked, “What do you want people to understand about you?”

Michael looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I want them to see me for who I am, not the stories they create. I want them to understand that I’m just a person trying to find my way in this world, just like everyone else. I want to bring joy and happiness to others, but sometimes it feels like I’m fighting against a tide of misunderstanding.”

Frank nodded in agreement, adding, “He’s a brilliant artist, and his heart is in the right place. But the world can be cruel, and it’s hard to navigate that when you’re constantly under scrutiny.”

The interviewer leaned back, contemplating the depth of Michael’s struggles. “It’s clear that you’ve faced a lot of challenges, both personally and professionally. How do you cope with that?”

Michael took a deep breath, his expression softening. “Music is my escape. It’s where I find my peace. When I’m on stage, I feel alive. I feel connected to the audience, and for those moments, the world fades away. It’s just me and the music. That’s where I find my happiness.”

The interviewer nodded, understanding the profound connection Michael had with his art. “But outside of music, how do you find peace? How do you deal with the pressures of fame and the constant scrutiny?”

Michael paused, reflecting on the question. “It’s difficult. I try to surround myself with people who care about me, like Frank and Elizabeth. They help me stay grounded. But sometimes, I feel so isolated. It’s hard to trust people when you’re always in the spotlight. You never know who is there for you and who is just there for the fame.”

Frank interjected, “That’s why it’s important for us to create a safe space for him. We try to protect him from the noise, but it’s a constant battle. The media can be relentless.”

The interviewer leaned in, sensing the vulnerability in Michael’s voice. “Do you ever think about stepping away from the spotlight? Taking a break from it all?”

Michael shook his head slowly. “I can’t. Music is my life. It’s what I was born to do. But sometimes, I wish I could just be a normal person, go to the grocery store without being recognized, or take a walk in the park without someone taking my picture. I long for that simplicity.”

The conversation shifted again, and the interviewer asked, “What do you want your legacy to be? How do you want to be remembered?”

Michael’s eyes lit up with passion. “I want to be remembered as someone who brought joy to the world. I want my music to live on and touch people’s hearts. I want to inspire others to be themselves, to embrace their uniqueness, and to spread love. That’s what truly matters to me.”

Frank nodded in agreement. “He’s always been about love and unity. That’s the message he wants to share with the world.”

The interviewer smiled, sensing the sincerity in Michael’s words. “And what about the rumors? The stories that seem to follow you everywhere?”

Michael sighed, a mixture of frustration and acceptance in his expression. “I can’t control what people say. I can only control how I respond. I try to focus on the positive and let the negativity roll off my back. But it’s hard. Sometimes, it feels like I’m fighting a losing battle.”

The interviewer leaned back, contemplating the weight of Michael’s words. “It’s clear that you’ve faced a lot of challenges, but you continue to rise above them. What keeps you going?”

Michael smiled softly, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “The love of my fans. They inspire me every day. When I see their faces light up during a performance, it reminds me why I do this. I want to make a difference in their lives, even if it’s just for a moment.”

As the interview drew to a close, the interviewer asked one final question. “If you could give one piece of advice to your younger self, what would it be?”

Michael thought for a moment, his expression contemplative. “I would tell myself to embrace who I am, to not let the opinions of others define me. I would remind myself that it’s okay to be different and that true beauty comes from within. And most importantly, I would tell myself to never stop dreaming.”

With that, the interview ended, but the conversation lingered in the air. Michael Jackson, a man of immense talent and complexity, had opened up about his struggles, his triumphs, and his unwavering passion for music. As he left the room, he carried with him the weight of the world, but also the hope that his music would continue to bring joy and inspiration to others.

In the years that followed, Michael would continue to face challenges, but he would also create some of the most iconic music of his generation. His legacy would be one of love, creativity, and resilience—a testament to the power of art to heal and uplift the human spirit. And as he looked in the mirror, he would strive to see not just the reflection of a star, but the reflection of a man who dared to dream and inspire others to do the same.