Deal or no deal?
So if you read yesterday’s post, you know that I was debating getting some Botox for the lines on my forehead. Now, I’m fully admitting to vanity here: I’m not exactly comfortable posting the photo below. I rarely go bare-faced. I don’t wear a lot of makeup, but since my eyelashes are blonde, and my brows experience wild over-pruning in the heyday of the 90s, I like to wear mascara, fill in those patchy caterpillars, and at least put some powder on my face every day. So. Deep breath (and giving thanks for a poor quality photo)… here is my face this morning showing you the lines of which I speak:
I bet you can’t even really see them, but when I look in the mirror, some days they’re all I see and my vanity gets the better of me and I start debating injecting toxins into my face.
While debating the idea and bouncing opinions around on Twitter, the stars aligned in my favour and I was given the opportunity to take advantage of a free treatment of Botox at a very lovely clinic in Toronto. I was given $300 worth of Botox (that’s 20 units, by the way, and, according to my research, barely enough to “fix” those forehead lines), free. The clinic is reputable, has doctors and nurses performing these services, and everything was legit. So I asked what you’d do. I asked what I should do. But I’d already made the decision.
I spoke to my husband about it yesterday, and it’s funny… I’ve often suggested that I’d like to correct a couple of my crooked teeth, and he’s very against that. He says these teeth give me this smile, the one he loves, and “corrected” they’d change the way I look. But with Botox, he left it up to me. He asked one question, “Would you be proud to tell Story?” My response was that no, at five years old, I don’t think it’s something I’d even address with her. But what about at 15? 25? 35? I guess I would be ok with it. Maybe not proud, but hey, we can’t always be proud, but we can feel comfortable with our decisions, right?
Peoples’ suggestions didn’t sway the decision at all, but what did was my own reflection. I realized that if I really want to do this, it’s my right to do so without guilt from anyone else. I don’t frankly care what anyone thinks of the process, or how they’d judge me for doing it. If they’ve got enough time to waste judging me, that’s on them.
Here’s what I did think about:
* What would I tell my daughter if she came to me complaining about fine lines when she’s older? Would I tell her she needs correcting?
* What would I say to my beautiful mama? What do I say to her, is more like it. She’s gorgeous, and I’d never, ever want her messing with her face.
* What would I advise a close friend?
* Would I feel proud to take the freebie (which wasn’t entirely free, since I was asked to blog and tweet about it, promote the clinic and the deal that was being offered)?
* What would happen if the results went poorly? (I’ve read that because the muscles injected in the forehead are those used to move eyebrows, it’s pretty easy to get that perma-surprised look… eep!)
* What would happen if they went well? What would I do when the Botox wore off in a few short months?
* What if I had serious side effects?
In the end, I decided to turn down the offer. I’ve also decided that those lines are welcome to stay put for a few more years. I’m not giving up on vanity; I like wearing makeup, feeling pretty and I don’t really care what guilt others feel they need to lay on me about that. This is my path, not yours. Eyes forward, all.
But I’ve decided that, along with my stretch marks, spider veins and grey hairs, those wrinkles exist because I’m full of life, expression and experience.
No Botox for me.