I Went On Reality TV to Look 10 Years Younger

Author Linda Kleinbub talks about her decision to get a reality TV makeover. (Photo: Linda Kleinbub)

When I saw Lifetime’s new show, Smile, I found myself yearning to be a reality TV star for the first time. Typically, unscripted television brought to mind catfights between housewives and bachelor proposals with long-stemmed roses, which I could never take seriously. But as a 44-year-old stay-at-home mother with two grown sons, I watched 10 Years Younger on TLC, fascinated as normal, drab people like me were transformed in two weeks with dental work and skin treatments.

After years away from the work force, I longed to go to graduate school. Even though our family’s income dropped dramatically when I stopped working, I loved the opportunity to be there for my kids. I volunteered at fundraisers. I was excited when I become leader of their Cub Scout troop. My Scout uniform consisted of a men’s cargo shirt and green khakis. It wasn’t glamorous, but I was happy planning meetings and going on camping trips with my boys. School events usually ended with cake and coffee, and a hectic schedule meant that I often relied on fast food. I soon found myself 40 pounds overweight. Now that my kids were grown, they didn’t need my care or want me around. The database administrator skills I abandoned years ago were obsolete.

I had dedicated 15 years of myself to my family. My children and husband’s needs always came before my own. I no longer felt wanted as a school volunteer; now my role was housekeeper. With the help of Weight Watchers, I lost 35 pounds. Reaching my goal weight, I joined a gym and dropped some more weight. I felt great back in a size 8. Yet I feared that my looks were fading, as lines appeared on my face and my complexion became blotchy. Studying something new would surely give me skills for a new career, but how could a middle-aged mom ever fit in with millennials?

One afternoon at the end of 10 Years Younger there was a message: “Do you live in the New York City area? Do you want to look 10 years younger?” Immediately I got on my computer and gave heartfelt answers to the questions. I admitted that I felt old and hated my teeth, and said that I wanted to enroll in college. I didn’t mention anything to my husband or sons.

The next day I got the call: “I’m from 10 Years Younger. We liked your story. Can you come in tomorrow? Don’t look pretty. We can’t help you if you look pretty.” “I’ll be there,” I said. I searched for my worst clothes, choosing a Hawaiian shirt and a pair of high-waisted Levis from high school. As I left for the show, my son Kevin said, “You look so ugly, I cannot look at you.” At the casting studio, the staff practically laughed at my appearance.

I told my family the show would give me a new smile and an appointment with an exclusive dermatologist.

“That’s crazy,” Kevin said.

“Don’t do it,” his brother Nick added.

“I’m not going on TV,” my husband said, shaking his head.

Exposing myself on television could be embarrassing. The inch-thick contract made me nervous. It contained phrases such as “can be filmed nude,” and “may result in death.” What if I didn’t like the results? I remembered an episode when a woman was in tears as her long, wavy locks were cut into a short pixie. My friend Pamela, who worked in the sweepstakes industry, assured me that the contract was standard procedure and said I was facing a tremendous opportunity. This was my chance to improve my smile, offering the possibility of not being self-conscious when I laughed.

Growing up as one of four children in 1970s Queens, New York, money was tight. My family never went on vacation. My only travels were with my Girl Scout troop, and without them I’d be bound to my humdrum days in Maspeth. My father, who worked for the Transit Authority, grew up during the Great Depression with insufficient dental care. He lost all his teeth and got dentures by the age of 21.

My teeth were also my nemesis. My dental plan included few orthodontists nearby. My teeth overlapped and needed to be separated to fit traditional metal braces. Every visit, a metal disc was rubbed between them, and I’d leave with bleeding gums. Eventually I stopped going. When I was ill, without sending me to see a doctor, my mother administrated an orange liquid medicine from her pharmacist. After years of this, my teeth had tetracycline staining, a darkening of my tooth’s surface from within. All the teeth-whitening techniques in the world could never brighten my molars.

Root canals as an adult meant crowns, and they didn’t match the rest of my tooth enamel. My insurance would never cover $25,000 for a cosmetic transformation. Now I had the chance to get a new mouth for free. I didn’t care that I had to do it publicly — I wanted a better smile. But thinking of plastic surgery gone wrong, I was apprehensive about any treatment.

I was torn. I wanted to please my family, but having watched 10 Years Younger for years, I knew that the results of 9 out of 10 makeovers were fabulous. This was my opportunity. I had always put their needs before my own; now was the time to take a chance on me. I promised nobody else had to appear on TV, signed the contract, and sent it in.

On a rainy afternoon, my saga began at Manhattan’s Time Warner Center. Dressed in shorts and a flannel shirt, I was placed in a clear plastic box. Strangers were brought up to me and asked, “What’s the oldest that she looks?” The average age people guessed I was: 50.

Linda Kleinbub standing in the clear plastic box in New York City. (Photo: Linda Kleinbub)

When I learned my dermatologist appointment was with Dr. Patricia Wexler, I called Pamela and screamed, “Dr. Wexler is Christie Brinkley’s doctor!” Since I was a teenager, I had been reading about Wexler in Vogue. I’d just won the skin care lottery.

I visited her office the next two Mondays, and received Botox and Restylane. A Fraxel laser treatment, which was supposed to heal sun damage and rejuvenate my skin, left my face burning and bright red. I walked out of the office and I worried about what I’d just done. Over the next several days, my husband was concerned as I covered my face with thick moisturizer and applied a masklike ice pack to my skin. When the redness faded, my skin began to look more youthful and firm.

Finally, I visited cosmetic dentist, Dr. Pia Lieb, and was amazed to learn that my grin would be transformed in just two visits. This was my reason for being on the show. Nothing could have prepared me for the four-hour film shoot that was filled with drilling, drooling, spitting, and needles. Still, I left Leib’s office ready for a close-up in a toothpaste ad. The next day, my head throbbed like it had been hit by a baseball bat. At Belmont Park racetrack with my husband, picnicking in the backyard, I couldn’t eat. I spent the afternoon sipping beer trying to numb the pain.

Then something surprising happened: Suddenly, my husband was thrilled with my makeover and agreed to appear on TV. The program claimed the makeover took 14 days. Four weeks later, I was placed back in the box with my new smile, skin, professional hair and makeup. The average age people guessed for me was 31. When the cameraman interviewed my husband, he grinned, “My wife looks like a movie star.”

I always thought of myself as a strong, intelligent woman. I admit going back to college at my age was a daunting idea that terrified me. I had just taken a chance and gone on television, and I was thrilled with the results. Maybe it was my imagination, but strangers reacted more positively towards me. I waited almost half a century to have a reason to love my smile — one that I was financially only able to achieve by appearing on television.

I am a person of my word, so I couldn’t announce on a national program that I wanted to go back to school without following through. When filming wrapped, I filled out applications. I must be the only graduate student on the planet whose degree began with reality TV.

Linda Kleinbub in the show ‘10 Years Younger.’ (Video: Dr. Pia Lieb)

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