Alas, the treatment doesn't work. Once the green goo is removed, I remain slightly sun-damaged, with crow's feet and dark circles under my eyes. All I've really accomplished is a brief interlude where the children compared me to Frankenstein, and I was unable to retort because my face was frozen.
So why do it?
The answer is simple: insurance doesn't cover Botox.
From my limited understanding, the only bona fide method of removing wrinkles is by injecting poison into your face. This is an attractive proposition if you are not afraid of death and you don't mind looking like Cher. But even then, there remains one drawback: Botox is expensive, and insurance doesn't cover it, no matter how hard Nancy Pelosi may lobby. But now that John Boehner will be Speaker of the House, perhaps I can get some tanning to hide my imperfections!
There was a time (long, long ago) when all I needed to look good was a scrunchie. My smooth skin glowed, my boobs stayed north, and my chestnut hair boasted natural highlights.
But then came motherhood, a period marked by puffy eyes, grey hair, and boobs the size of the Hindeburg. (Those boobs were a wasted opportunity really, because it's hard to be seductive when you are covered in baby vomit. And now they've disappeared, along with most of my brain cells. But I digress.)
I've found that my forties bring an opportunity for appearance redemption. Now that the children can dress and wipe themselves, I've picked up an extra ten minutes a day. But redemption is not easy. Roots must be dyed; eyebrows must be waxed, errant chin hairs must be plucked. Imperfections must be minimized with moisturizer, concealer, toner, exfoliant, etc. It's exhausting. I've already got two full-time jobs - working and motherhood- can I really tackle a third? The fight against aging is a war I'll never win, so I'm beginning to embrace the "Middle-Aged" me. My appearance is a reflection of a four decades of a life well-lived, so why not be proud?
I recently read about a group of Texas teens who started a 'no make-up' club. Once a week these girls go to high school in t-shirts bearing the slogan "Redefining Beauty One Girl At a Time." This a gutsy move for any female, and especially impressive for teens. It reinforces the conclusion that I am drawing as I reach the age of maintenance: we are all beautiful, with or without the window dressing.
TLC
