[It's pretty obvious that the average CollegeCandy reader has some very strong opinions. Opinions that she likes to share with everyone on the site. We love a strong woman (unless she happens to be charging at us with her fists raised), so we thought we'd give her a real forum to discuss her thoughts, feelings, and perspectives. Every Friday I'll be featuring a hot topic (like tie dye! ) and leaving it up to you, the readers, to duke it out. So, read it and get your debate on in the comments section below!]

Hello, my name is Lauren, and I have a problem. I’d like to lay the blame on my mother (it’s just so convenient!) or maybe her mother before her, but the truth is it’s probably a lot of factors going back who knows how far that have led me to this moment: I’m obsessed with looking young.

While most of my friends still need reminders to wear SPF everyday, I’ve been using anti-aging products since I graduated high school. When I turned 20 I discovered my first fine line across my forehead and have religiously applied product to it almost every day since. This obsession, irrational and vain though it may be, has led me to consider some extreme measures – and it turns out I’m not the only one. Botox injections for women under 30 have skyrocketed in the last few years, and I’m torn.

The whole idea behind getting Botox at our age is to basically prevent the wrinkles from ever forming so you don’t have to fight an uphill battle when you get older. Sounds good! Perfectly rational. And while I’ve had some mixed feelings about plastic surgery in the past, these injections are relatively mild and non-invasive so it’s not quite so extreme. If it makes you feel a little bit better about yourself, more confident in the way you look, why shouldn’t you do it?

And sure, alright, I admit that it seems narcissistic to spend all that time and money worrying about the way that you look, but seriously, don’t most of us? If we didn’t care how we looked, would we buy the makeup, the crazy acne regimens, all the stupid little products that seem to multiply overnight in your bathroom like bunnies on Viagra until there’s no room to move? No, of course not, because we do care – so why should it be any more embarrassing to want to do whatever it takes to keep your skin looking young?

But there are a few things that stop me (aside from a certain fear of having paralyzing chemicals shoved into my skin). For one, once you start, stopping isn’t really an option. You have to keep up the regimen or else what’s the point – which pretty much means that you’ll be getting these injections every few months for decades… decades. And since Botox hasn’t been around for that long, we really don’t know what effects long term use like that might have.

Aside from the safety issues, there’s also that nagging little voice in the back of my mind that says “you’re being shallow.” So, you end up with a couple of wrinkles – big deal, everybody does eventually. Embrace the fact that you’re human, you’re natural. Enjoy being young while you can and stop worrying about it, right? Right?

OK, help me out girls. Do you fret about this stuff as much as I do, or am I out here on a limb by myself? Would you consider getting Botox now? Have you? Or do you think all of us 20-something youth junkies are just being ridiculous? Duke. It. Out.

The latest figures show that “the number of cosmetic surgical procedures performed on youths 18 or younger more than tripled over a 10-year period, to 205,119 in 2007 from 59,890 in 1997.” That is an astronomical number!

I know I shouldn’t be surprised being I can name more than a few people who have been offered a pair of silicone implants wrapped in a red bow come graduation day, but that number really shocks me.

I understand that beauty and perfection have been something that women have constantly strived for and I also understand that cosmetic surgery has become more acceptible in our society. I mean, just turn on the television and I bet you can find at least three makeover shows on right this minute, and at least one re-run of Dr. 90210. Still, maybe we should be wondering why young girls are inceasingly begging and pleading for new noses, breasts, chins, teeth, ears, tummies and every other resize-able, reshape-able body part.

Self esteem is a huge argument for teens when trying to convince families to take the life-changing plunge into cosmetic surgery. I don’t necessarily say life-changing in a postive light either. Not only are there serious risks associated with these surgeries, but sometimes they require upkeep, which means a life under the knife.

It makes me sad to think that girls think they need to look a certain way to fit in. The media may not show it, but noses have bumps, girls have bellies (we have organs in there!), breasts are big and small and pointy and round, and ears stick out – that is what is normal. At one time or another we were all part of the itty-bitty-titty committee… it’s part of growing up. Eventually your body changes, and if it doesn’t, at some point you start to love it for what it is. If only we all had Oprah on speed dial; I think we would remember this more often.

What do you think? Should we do anything we can to feel better about ourselves, or just learn to love what we have?

It’s not like a “before” and “after” picture. You don’t just walk into a surgeon’s office and - VOILA! - perfect boobs. Just getting to the actual surgery was a long process.]

I was a late bloomer and I can’t remember a time when I was ever “in-between.” During my sophomore year of high school, I suddenly went from not having to wear a bra to being one of the chestiest girls in my school. Might sound cool, right? Nah. I couldn’t play my favorite sports anymore, I never found tops that fit me properly and, oh yeah, have you ever met boys in high school? They’re not so subtle about pointing out your rack.

My parents and I discussed breast reduction in high school, but I wasn’t ready. Last year, I decided I was ready at age 19 and a sophomore in college. My breasts had gotten even larger after going on birth control and my spine felt like it was about to snap.

The “leg work” for the surgery was tough. I talked to my general practitioner and she agreed that it was a good idea. I got some great references through my doctor and my family’s doctor and eventually found a good surgeon. I went in for a consultation and connected fairly quickly with the plastic surgeon. He explained the procedure and the pros and cons.

My surgeon also warned me (upon me asking, “So will they look better? Are the scars going to be ugly?”): Breast reduction is NOT a cosmetic surgery, it is a corrective surgery. If you’re going into the surgery for “prettier” boobs, you might want to rethink your decision.

The consultation went well and I learned a lot about the actual surgery. Although I did get a bit weirded out when they took a picture of my ta-tas (not including my face, thank goodness) and mailed them and a letter of recommendation to my insurance company.

My reduction was approved very quickly by my insurance and then it was a waiting game until the day of the procedure. I was more and more excited each day, except when it came to the actual surgery. I started to doubt my decision and got a little neurotic about everything that could go wrong: first biggest fear? Not waking up from anesthesia. Second biggest fear? Losing a nipple (it happens!).

All that worrying was for nothing, though; I finally had my surgery about four weeks ago and I couldn’t be happier. I’m still healing – and some days are harder than others – but it’s a decision that I’m glad I made. It was perfect for me and may just be right for you. Just make sure to do the research and know exactly what you are getting yourself into.

And never, ever envy a girl with DD boobs; they aren’t as fun as you’d think.

Did you hear? Designer Vaginas were blacklisted in Australia!?

Yeah, I can’t believe it either! I mean, I am all about designer everything – bags, clothes, shoes, etc. – but I didn’t know a designer va-jay was an option! (Note: I just did some investigating and found out that this does not refer to some sort of

Louis Vuitton hoo-hah, but rather surgery to make it look prettier. Damn.)

Yeah, so basically women have been seeking out uber expensive surgery ($10,000!) to make their vaginas look more appealing. Surprisingly (pause, NOT!), some doctors are getting a little worried about this. Not only is it ridiculous to want a better lookin’ vag (let’s be honest…they aren’t the prettiest things), but the surgery is not safe and can cause long term sensitivity issues.

Um, ladies, why you so crazy? What is the point of a pretty (and overpriced) vag if you can’t enjoy it?

I’m just sayin’…

Thanks to the J.Lo-inspired era of backside obsession, I’ll admit I’ve certainly been paying more attention to how I fill out my jeans. But according to Marie Claire, there are women who really get up close and personal with their rear ends—and they don’t like what they see.

So, what’s a gal to do when she’s plagued with an imperfect backside? Anal bleaching of course!

The cheeks on your face aren’t the only ones that need color, apparently. Women are now looking to get that rosy glow on a part of the body that, up until now, remained untouched by cosmetic enhancement—-the anus.

Lucky for us, our anal imperfections can be fixed in a simple trip to the salon to pick up an at-home bleaching kit.

It doesn’t end at the anus. Next time you’re having your dermatologist erase any evidence that you may have smiled or frowned at some point in your life, ask the doc about bum Botoxing. An alternative to exercise and cellulite creams, there’s no faster way to get your butt swimsuit-ready than dropping your pants and injecting it with poison!

If anyone asks, just thank your regime of Pilates and Spinning for your peculiarly smoother backside.

Labia got you down? Just make an appointment with your local plastic surgeon for the “Toronto Trim,” a procedure that involves the reduction of the labia and slight unhooding of the clitoris.

Who exactly are we trying to impress with these extreme makeovers? I don’t know about you, but I don’t walk around holding a hand mirror to my ass. And I’m certainly able to point out the location of my clitoris. So, I’m left with the assumption that these procedures mainly benefit those who spend the most time looking at (or fruitlessly searching for, as the case may be) those body parts — men.

I won’t pretend that my standing appointment with the bikini waxer and impressive collection of Nair is something I do for myself, but how far will we go in our quests to be perfect, hairless, cellulite-free creatures before it’s time to say “enough is enough?”

And let’s be honest, when was the last time your boyfriend’s nether regions came in contact with hot wax, a needle full of Botox, or heaven forbid, a scalpel?