I didn’t realize the extent of my vanity until the day I discovered my first permanent line on my face (under the corner of my poor, defenseless eye area). It’s the acquaintance we like to keep at arms length called “aging” that creeps in and makes its mark in the stillness of the night – you wake up, find it, and eventually discover that you can’t get rid of it with the usual ammunition. This was the day that I came to a quick realization that this acquaintance, “aging”, was now going to be my full time companion. I would have none of it!
With “aging” making its grand entrance into my life I had to come up with a plan to push it back out the door. What was I to do?! The first attempt I made was to turn to the “eye cream family”. They were always supportive in the past. I spent time and money bringing some of these members home with me. Tried one then the others. Utter rubbish! They couldn’t get rid of this unwelcome guest, they could only moisturize it. I was not a satisfied customer. Then....a voice echoed.... “Botox”. Where did that come from?
I didn’t stop to think. I immediately called a very esteemed doctor I knew about and took my first step in making my Botox (my new best friend) appointment. The receptionist told me to come Tuesday morning. Tuesday in the A.M. was not good for me. Can’t I make it Monday morning? No, they see all their Botox people at the same time – some technical reason concerning the drug – she explains. OK, whatever.
On Tuesday, I find my way to the “Botox Club” office. I open the door – oh my – more members than I expected to see. I quickly noticed this club was not limited to a certain “type”. There was an impressive array of people – every age, gender, descriptive category. I check in, sit down, and wait my turn – occasionally looking up from my fashion magazine (filled with 12 year olds made up to look 25; yeah right, we the public are fooled, huh!) to check out this somber-looking group. No one smiles. I wonder why. I mean, we’re all here to get the miracle fix, right? People are in and out of the doctor’s office pretty quickly.
I am finally called in. Yay! The nurse leads me into one of the rooms. The doctor comes in. Nice man. We chat a bit. Then....suddenly I had this overwhelming feeling that maybe....just maybe....this wasn’t the right thing for me to do. Had I jumped the gun? The thought of injecting some form of poison into my system seemed to over-ride my horror of the wrinkle. I immediately question the doctor about the safety of this drug. He assures me it’s diluted and safe. In fact, he mentions his wife is a regular user of this concoction. Not one to waste time, all doubt flies out the window, and I give him the all clear. A few pricks under the corners of my eyes and I’m on my way. That evening I could feel the numbness. I look in the mirror and smile. Perfect. The corner of my eyes don’t wrinkle. This really is a miracle. I fall asleep on Cloud 9. No more “aging” visits.
The bright sun comes up the next morning. Ah! I’m refreshed. I make my usual way to the bathroom to start my day. A quick peek in the mirror. Everything looks OK. On to showering and dressing. I eventually make my way back to the mirror to put my make-up on. I smile. Wait a minute! Wait a cotton-pickin’ minute! Something’s different. Very different. What happened? My face is more paralyzed this morning than it was last night and it ain’t pretty. When I curl up my lips to smile, my cheeks feel as if they have 50 lb. weights resting on top of them. Not only is it a chore to smile, I look as if I’m really pissed off and forcing myself to look jolly. This isn’t what I ordered! Nobody forewarned me that I would look like “The Joker”! Now I know why those Beverly Hills ladies look so miserable – no smiling allowed.
I’m normally a pretty friendly person who spends my days smiling. It’s a natural instinct for me. And now, horror of horrors! I look dead in the eyes. I’m now having to suffer the consequences because of one wrinkle. This is where vanity takes you and it ain’t a pretty picture. I came to realize that the “wrinkle” wasn’t my enemy, “vanity” was. I never told a soul about the dilemma at the time. However, I was now the recipient of some very strange looks from friends, acquaintances, and strangers – both men and women – when I’d throw a smile their way.
I was told by my doctor that the Botox results would last 3 months.
