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I remember when I was in my 20s and my friends would throw Botox parties. They would serve cocktails and appetizers and would sit around and happily get their fix of Botox injections.
I never would partake; however, on occasion, I would attend and find myself entertained with the whole scene. I would enjoy the finger foods and free alcohol but never really considered the idea of sitting in a chair and getting a needle inserted into my face. At the time, it all seemed slightly experimental, and over the top. We were in our 20s and rocking parties in the Hollywood Hills like a hot pack of pups. Let’s not kid ourselves; this was LA, where people have Botox for breakfast. The competition has always been fierce, so when it came to considering folding, there was always that to consider.
I thought Botox was something you started in your 30s or even maybe your 40s. My friends more or less justified starting early with procedures by throwing out the buzzword “preventive.” It somehow made it okay to start at an early age and not a big deal. Then I thought, if I start doing this now, I would be strapped to it for decades to come. I wondered if, once I started doing it, somehow it would become a slippery slope; I could potentially become obsessed with maintaining youthful skin and fall down a rabbit hole. It all seemed so crazy and extreme, but to be honest, looking back I am not sure abstaining was the right decision.
In my 30s, I still felt pretty good about my skin. I continued to get carded when I purchased alcohol, so I thought I was looking pretty good for my age. I remember my dad used to say that exercise was the fountain of youth, and I was consistently on top of my workout regime. So again, I didn’t think it was something I needed to start doing. I was going about it the natural way.
I also still had fears of what would happen if I jumped on the Botox train. What would that mean moving forward? How much was this going to cost? Where would I get it? How many injections will I need? It all seemed rather taxing and confusing. Again, I wasn’t committed to the idea, so I just kept it in the back of my mind.
Then the 40s came about, and I started to get precancerous cells on my face. I went to multiple dermatologists to find a remedy. Several treatments were tried on my skin with little to no repair. I remember the doctor telling me that she had never seen skin so resistant to treatment.
Finally, she presented what could be considered an aggressive treatment almost like a last resort. I had to apply two separate medications to my face twice a day for six weeks. I was warned it would be intense, and at any point, if it got to be too much I could stop. Basically, the treatment would fry layers of my skin off my face. I was shown pictures of what could happen and got a visual of my future. I was horrified, but I had already tried so many different treatments that I was ready to take the plunge. It also was at the start of the pandemic, so I thought I could hide in my home and not have to worry about looking like a fried freak out in the world. I figured if I had to run an errand, I could cover my face. Everyone else was wearing a mask, so that made it easier to not be self-conscious. After considering my options, instead of wearing a mask, I decided to wear my Vespa helmet. Although I probably looked ridiculous walking around with a helmet, I didn’t care because the alternative of exposing any inch of my cherry face was worse.
After I went through the treatment, my skin was left luminous, which aside from successfully treating the cancer, managed to take years off my face. I did begin to notice that although my skin was youthful, there were lines in areas that were not going away and only seemed to get deeper.
Now I am in my mid-40s. The precancerous cells have been treated and thankfully have not resurfaced at least for now. Yet, I continue to be met with the same predicament. My face is something I have to look at every day, so why not address it? Why not get Botox? I think because I had to endure the painful precancer skin treatment, I feel I shouldn’t have to enter the Botox vortex. I should get a pass. I did my time. I seared my face for weeks on end. It doesn't seem fair.
When I speak with my friends these days, some have surpassed the Botox phase and have moved on to getting fillers. One of my friends who has always been a huge fan of Botox seemed to make the decision simple. When it came to injections (among other decisions in life) her motto has always been, “Do what you want, get it when you want it.”
People can judge all day long and say it’s vanity, insecurity, or shallowness, but no matter what, it’s still a personal decision that I have yet to make.
Sitting here now, I am left with one question:
To Botox or not to Botox?
I am still not sure, but I have looked into it. I did have a consultation, and I know a place I can go to get it done. That makes me one step closer, and eventually, I will most likely succumb.
I made it through my 20s and 30s Botox-free which again, I am not sure was the best decision. But I can’t look back. I can only look forward. When I contemplate a decision like Botox and find myself going back and forth, eventually that crease in between my eyebrows is going to win out, and I’ll march straight down the street, sit in that chair, and let the magic unfold.
