Warning: This Blog Post contains content that some readers may find disturbing, namely vanity and sarcastic humor. (Oh, and, lest I forget, #firstworldproblems.) Translation: I know this content is not very Catholic (or law/mom-related), but it’s on my mind, and I hope you will forgive the momentary lapse (and all of the angst-filled parentheticals and ellipses that go with it). Viewer discretion advised.
Botox. There, I said it. It’s a word that tastes heavy, unwieldy, and awkward on my lips. Kind of like a strong pickle. But I like pickles (a lot actually). I just cringe at this word (if you made any sense of that, you’re a smarter person than me). {cringe}
Confession Time: I’ve been actually thinking about getting Botox. I truly cannot believe it. I have not even confessed this thought to my husband out of embarrassment (although I guess he’ll probably read it here . . . Hi Hubby dearest . . . see me blush now!).
See, I’m the person who has sworn backwards and forwards and up and down from here to last Tuesday that I would never, ever, EVER for ANY reason get any kind of cosmetic work done, whether it be surgery or the more minor stuff like Botox. Heck, I’ve never even dyed or highlighted my hair. Not even to experiment in high school. Ever. (Note: Once I start to go gray, which I have been very blessed to avoid despite reaching my thirties, I will definitely dye my hair. No shame in that! Although I guess some could argue it’s a distinction without a difference . . . Hmmm . . . but I digress.) I have no tattoos and have only ever had one piercing (just one hole in each earlobe), despite growing up in a generation that embraced both (and all of the above).
See, I have this mental block built up against augmenting my body in any way. Like, if my body was good enough for the almighty Creator who designed it, then it darn well should be good enough for me! Right? This, despite the fact that there are many women in my family who have dabbled (and more than dabbled) with cosmetic surgery/ augmentation/ Botox/ tattoos/ piercings/ you name it, etc.
Here’s the problem (finally I get to the point . . . I know, right?). I have an increasingly apparent wrinkle that runs up and down between my two eyebrows. The result of furrowing my brow (which happens anytime I concentrate really hard, like at work all day, or squint, and even when I sleep, which I still don’t understand . . .).
My mom says she first noticed it the day I was born and frowned up at her after birth (It was a long, painful labor for both of us, so I was probably holding a grudge . . . or just confused to see her from the outside for the first time). I first noticed it about 7-8 years ago. I remember that moment vividly. I was driving into town and happened to glance up at myself in the rearview mirror. Suddenly, I noticed that I had this faint red line/indentation between my eyebrows. Being then in my early twenties, I almost drove off the road in shock! The realization hit: I was getting OLD. I was getting wrinkles!!! Stricken with sudden terror, I decided to take drastic measures. I would no longer furrow my brow. Heck, if I didn’t furrow my brow, this thing, this WRINKLE, would surely go away, right? I mean, it couldn’t get any worse, right?
Well . . . that worked for awhile. I made a conscious effort to relax my brow, especially when driving. But I couldn’t avoid it when I was working or even just making normal facial expressions during conversation. Despite that, the wrinkle seemed to fade most of the time. Years passed. I gave birth once. Twice. I reached my thirties and was generally okay with the state of my brow. I gave birth again. And then the wheels fell off. Like a bacterial infection after an incomplete course of antibiotics, the wrinkle came back, deeper and much worse than before.
So, here we are. I now have a slight indentation between my brows all the time (I’ll spare you and myself from the embarrassment of an actual photo), and it won’t totally go away no matter how much I relax my brow. Sigh.
Since we all grow up to look like our parents and grandparents, I started paying close attention to the faces of my relatives once I first noticed my wrinkle. Results: My maternal grandmother has a similar wrinkle, but it has become much more defined with age. My mother doesn’t (jealous!). Interestingly, my younger brother also has the same wrinkle, but he never stopped furrowing his brow, so his has grown worse than mine. So, definitely a hereditary thing.
The problem is that this particular wrinkle, as it defines itself, has the very unfortunate side effect of always making you look angry. Even when you smile. Like an angry smile. And I think that’s what grates on me so much! Because I’m a cheerful, happy person. I like to smile. I love to laugh. I don’t want to look angry!!! Therein lies my vanity.
Which brings me back to Botox. I have heard that, especially for small, single, defined wrinkles of this nature, Botox can actually prevent them from getting worse and, possibly, even reverse them. Particularly the higher quality Botox (whatever that means). I don’t know if any of that is true, but it’s what I’ve heard. I’ve done no independent research (largely because thinking about the details of Botox and what ingredients are probably in it grosses me out). But I’m starting to feel desperate. Read: Can anyone out there in the blogosphere give me any advice/ suggestions/ recommendations?
I don’t think I’ll ever be the person who gets monthly Botox treatments and whose face is stiff as a board. Because that’s not me. Things like laugh lines and eye crinkles are part of aging. And I’m okay with that (I think). I also don’t really see myself getting implants or liposuction (although I could probably use both!). Again, it’s not me. But a tiny bit of Botox to eliminate an angry crease between my brows? I don’t know . . . I just don’t know. Maybe?????
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