Yes, I’m talking about Botox. It’s ubiquitous in some circles and unmentionable in others. I have to agree with Sarah Haskins that it sounds horrible to have someone stick needles in your face for the sake of beauty. However, I’m not just empathizing – I’ve had it done.
My Botox story started with a trip to the beauty salon three or four years ago. My bangs were pinned up and when I got a look at my forehead in the mirror, I didn’t like what I saw. It was getting deeply furrowed and I had a vertical crease between my brows one one side.
I happened to know someone who was BFFs (that’s “best friends forever,” if you’re not 15 – physically or mentally) with an aesthetician. She was visiting his office for a little cosmetic touch-up and invited me to come along. Yes, it was free of charge. I may be vain, but I’m also cheap.
When I got there, he took one look at me and said, “You’ll want filler for your lips, too.”
“No,” I said, “They’ve always looked like this! Just the Botox.”
I sat in the chair, took a deep breath, and let a stranger repeatedly poke needles into my forehead.
It didn’t take full effect right away, but it wasn’t long before my forehead was smooth and motionless.
I didn’t like the way it looked. It seemed to me that my brows were very droopy and flat and my eyes looked hooded. I kept thinking to myself, “It wears off in six months…it wears off in six months.”
It felt weird, too. I’d get little slithery twinges that I perceived to be nerve impulses trying to make their way through. I spent a lot of time poking at my forehead with my fingers and seeing if I could raise my eyebrows yet.
The standard effects did wear off within about six months. Interestingly, the cosmetic improvements remained. The deep grooves and vertical line have still never returned, not that you’d really notice since I’ve worn bangs the whole time.
Would I do it again? I don’t know. I guess it depends on how I’m feeling about myself when the forehead wrinkles finally do come back.
Great comments! I agree that it’s a lot easier to be critical of any beauty treatment when you’re still young enough to doubt that you’ll ever need it. Once reality quells that notion, anything goes!
I came back to ask a question… I clicked through to the video from Sarah Haskins, and while I found it entertaining at points, why do younger women (20s/30s) feel the need to be so critical on this topic? The marketing isn’t targeted at them, the product isn’t meant for them, and overall it’s not their concern. But boy that doesn’t stop them from being judgmental about it.
I wanna say, “listen sweetheart, when you’ve walked a mile in my orthotics… when you’ve discovered ‘the magic cloak of invisibility’ that comes with middle age… when you’ve awakened one morning with a wattle that wasn’t there the night before… when you’ve looked at your husband and wondered, ‘Is he going to go through his own midlife crisis and leave me for someone younger, prettier, less wrinkled?’… then and ONLY then do you get to spout off about anti-aging products and the fear that they tap into. Until that time, take your Abercrombie & Fitch self and get outta my bathroom!
*harrumph*
Good for you, not letting her put filler in your lips. I’ve never seen anyone who looked better after having that done (are you listening, Nicole Kidman and Meg Ryan?).
I’ve toyed with the idea of Botox, mostly for the frown lines between my eyebrows. But I’m not there yet, and couldn’t justify the expense right now anyway. Ask me in a couple of years.
I’m so glad to read this! I’ve often considered Botox because my frown lines make me look angry. But I was afraid of what it would do to my already-droopy eyes. Fix one thing and something else breaks… the story of a midlife body. I’m having pretty good luck with a cream that contains GABA. It temporarily relaxes the muscles and softens the lines — which, I hope, will keep the wrinkles from becoming quite so deep. Or at least that’s how I justify the outrageous cost for a small jar.
So far, the most dramatic I’ve altered my facial appearance has been to wield the tweezers at various areas of midlife growth. But I don’t see why we should feel bad about using B or doing anything else. For goodness sakes, why are we always to feel self-conscious about the way we look–for good or for bad.
Laura (blogging at http://www.rebelliousthoughtsofawoman.com)