When We Stop Looking In The Mirror: A Plastic Surgeon’s Reflections On Jewish Mourning

By: Preminger Plastic Surgery

As a plastic surgeon, I spend much of my day talking about healing and physical appearance. Patients come to my office hoping to restore something—whether it is a body changed by pregnancy, aging, weight loss, illness, cancer, or simply the passage of time. While many people think plastic surgery is about beauty, I have always believed it is really about helping people feel like themselves again.

Yet, every summer, Judaism reminds us that there are times when feeling like ourselves is not the goal. This year, that lesson became deeply personal.

Only weeks before the Three Weeks began, my husband lost his ninety-seven-year old father. He began observing shivah, then shloshim, while the Jewish calendar was already turning toward the national mourning of the Three Weeks and Tishah B’Av.

It has struck me how much of Jewish mourning is expressed not only through what we say or where we sit, but through what we deliberately choose not to do. During shivah, mirrors are covered and haircuts and shaving are not permitted. The mourners do not wear fresh clothing or allow themselves to engage in the normal routines of personal appearance. These customs mirror what happens during the Three Weeks, and especially the Nine Days. Weddings stop, live music is not permitted, and haircuts are postponed. We intentionally allow ourselves to look just a little less polished than usual.

As a surgeon who spends every day discussing appearance, that symbolism has always fascinated me. Judaism understands something modern society often forgets, that how we care for our appearance reflects our emotional state. When we are celebrating, we dress for the occasion. We wear our finest clothing and we prepare ourselves physically because our exterior reflects our inner joy. Mourning reverses that process. The absence of grooming is not about neglect. It is a language. It tells the world, and perhaps reminds us, that our attention is directed somewhere deeper than the mirror.

As physicians, we often speak about self-care. We encourage sleep, nutrition, exercise, and taking time for ourselves. I firmly believe in those principles. They are essential for both physical and emotional health. But Judaism teaches that self-care is not always synonymous with self-adornment. Sometimes the healthiest thing we can do is allow ourselves to fully experience grief without trying to immediately restore normalcy.

That lesson resonated differently this year as I watched my husband navigate the customs of mourning. The growing beard, the postponed haircut, the subtle changes in appearance were not signs that he had stopped caring for himself. They were visible reminders that his heart was occupied elsewhere and that he needed to focus on recovering from his loss.

As surgeons, we know that healing and recovery cannot be rushed. After surgery, swelling resolves gradually. Scars mature over months. I tell patients to never judge their results too early because biology follows its own timetable. Grief follows a timetable as well.

Judaism recognizes this with extraordinary wisdom. Shivah, shloshim, the first year after losing a parent. Each stage gently asks something different of the mourner. The restrictions slowly lift, allowing life to re-enter gradually rather than all at once. The Three Weeks mirror that progression in reverse. We slowly reduce our celebrations until we reach Tishah B’Av, the saddest day of the Jewish calendar, when we mourn not only the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash but generations of collective loss.

There is another lesson hidden within these customs. In a culture that constantly tells us to improve ourselves, optimize ourselves, filter ourselves, and present our best image every day, Judaism gives us permission to stop and to let our appearance become secondary. We remember that our worth is not measured by a fresh haircut, flawless skin, or the outfit we are wearing.

Ironically, I believe that makes the work of aesthetic plastic surgery even more meaningful. The healthiest patients are never the ones chasing perfection. They are the people who understand that caring for themselves is part of living a full life and not the definition of it. They seek surgery after they’ve healed from cancer, finished having their children, experienced massive weight loss, or simply because they wish their reflection to match how vibrant they feel inside. Their appearance is an expression of life, not its purpose.

During periods of mourning, Judaism temporarily asks us to set that expression aside. Not because appearance is unimportant, but because there are moments when internal reflection matters more than mirrors. But, soon enough, life slowly reclaims its rhythm and we return to celebrating. Perhaps that is one of Judaism’s greatest gifts and one of the lessons we re-learn each summer. Judaism encourages us to take time to mourn but never asks us to live forever in grief. It simply insists that before we return to polishing the outside (which sometimes involves seeing a plastic surgeon), we spend enough time tending to what is within. 

At Preminger Plastic Surgery, we are committed to educating our patients and providing personalized care tailored to their unique needs. For those considering plastic surgery, we offer guidance every step of the way to help you achieve your aesthetic and wellness goals. Dr. Preminger is a board-certified plastic surgeon with degrees from Harvard, Cornell, and Columbia.  For more information or to schedule a consultation, please visit PremingerMD.com or call 212-706-1900. Follow us on Instagram @premingerplasticsurgery