Botox Confessions

If you have read my blog before, you know (much to my Mother’s chagrin) that I tell all. Not about other people- I will carry your secret to the grave- but I feel better when I am an open book.  So, it’s surprising to me that I feel embarrassed to tell you that I shot my face full of Botox and Juvederm.  At least I think this is what embarrassed feels like, as I, (much to my Mother’s chagrin) am rarely embarrassed.  Plus my face doesn’t move.  So I might be embarrassed, or I might just be astonished – hard to say.  For fear of being judged, I have only told a few people, but rather than the reaction I thought I’d get – “Wow, you are really vain and stupid.” – this is the reaction I’ve received: “Where did you get it done and how much did it cost?”
The truth is, I am really happy I did it.  No one can tell but me because no one has spent the countless hours studying my face as I have.  People think I have new makeup, lost weight, or that I look well rested.  Don says he likes that I look like I am not frowning at him all the time.  I assured him I was still frowning on the inside.  I even plan on doing it again except next time I think a little less Botox.  I was at an AA meeting and a speaker was sharing a particularly difficult story.  I turned to my friend next to me and said, “I am actually really sad.  I just can’t move my face.”  She replied, “Where did you get it done and how much did it cost?”
I guess I’m embarrassed, because I thought I was above such petty vanity but my therapist pointed out that although I am not petty I am most certainly vain. I’m sure that comes as no surprise to anyone who knows me. I really want to be the organic hippy that let’s her hair gray and wants her forehead to move but I am not. I want to live in a world where the Waldorf School is next to a really good mall. I want to wear Birkenstocks but carry a Birkin bag.  I want to eat my organic rice and beans off of antique French china and I guess I want to age just a bit slower.  Sue me.
That feels so good to admit!  (Sorry Mom.)  I am going to quit judging myself now –  at least about this particular thing.  I do understand if people judge my choice, but that probably means they have healthier self-esteem than I, or that they’re under forty-five.  Either way, it’s o.k.  If you want to call and tell me you think it’s a bad idea, I am fine with that.  But if you’d rather, you can also call and I will be more than happy to answer the question,  “Where did you get it done and how much does it cost?”