The cat's out of the bag, I got BOTOX.

I had intended on writing this for Mother's Day, as it's a blog post about my Mother's Day gift, but I have been exceedingly busy as of late...er...as of always really. So excuse the lateness. What does a busy, tired, and haggard looking mom want most for Mother's Day? What does she need? One might suggest a day of rest and relaxation, or perhaps an uninterrupted nap and bubble bath. Well not this mama. I received for Mom's Day 15 injections right into my face. I'm laughing as I write this, because I already know how ludicrous it sounds...you can't actually tell by my facial expression, or lack thereof that I'm laughing, but I can still make the sound, at least. If you haven't already guessed, I was given the gift of everlasting youth, technically called BOTOX. Yes, I know I am only 24 to 26 years old ( see what I did there?) but the lines gently etched into my face have bothered me for quite some time, and I decided to erase them.
   When you schedule an appointment, the cosmetic surgeon must first do a consultation, for a heavy fee of course, on top of the actual procedure, and for "free" ( yeah right!) He also included an over-all consult, to cover any other procedure I may need or want now or in the future. I was asked to undress, much like you do at the gyno, and given a huge paper towel to wear for "modesty" purposes. I sat and waited on him to enter, expecting a man who resembled Ken, or Brad Pitt given his profession, but instead, in walked the bald bad guy from The Princess Bride. Well, the cobbler doesn't ever have new shoes as they say, so I brushed off his imperfect appearance. His first consultation covered possible breast augmentation. He was curt and to the point. He wasn't overly friendly, if at all. The first words out of his mouth was an incredulous observation regarding how tight I wear my bra. I said, well, I've had two kids, and nursed both for awhile, I am pushing and pulling them up and out, at the expense of my diaphragm, to appear larger and perkier. He didn't laugh. I did, nervously though. His final conclusion was one boob was an entire cup size smaller. Now, I can tell you with complete honesty, I have always fantasized about a boob job. I have always thought it would be awesome to have huge, super perky tits, but I have never once thought one was bigger than the other! I actually didn't think mine were too bad. I look in the mirror after a shower, and think...two kids? Not too shabby, sister!
   Next he inspected my belly. It is an absolute subconscious reflex to suck in and flex, at all times. The only time I'm not is when I'm asleep. He irritatedly told me to relax my stomach, and I had to really muster up bravery for that small act. I literally breathed deeply and closed my eyes, then let that thing hang out. He started painfully yanking and pulling on me, showing me where my belly button should actually be placed as opposed to where it is now. ha! (Again, I'm smirking, but you can't tell.) He told me I need a tuck, and he would reconstruct my belly button, even going so far as to say he would remove my heinous belly button ring scar. The belly button ring I got when I was 16, with my mom. The time we went to the tattoo shop together and she let me pierce it without telling my dad. I wrapped myself back up in my paper towel quickly, and asked uncomfortably how much all this would cost.
  He asked me if it mattered! SIGH. The last thing on the list was my face. They hemmed and hawed, way too close to my pores and the zit on my forehead and concluded, the doctor and his esthetic's professional, that my face skin was much, much older than my actual biological age, and I certainly needed the botox, and 200 dollars worth of skin care shit. I had entered the office thinking I was pretty hot, and one small injection later I would be perfect, and as my appointment drew to an end, I felt like a withered husk of a woman. I had effed up boobs, my belly button was halfway up my rib cage now apparently, I had floppy, loose skin hanging off my bones like plastic grocery bags, and my skin was pushing 80 years old. I slouched around the office, like a deflated balloon. WHY AM I SO HIDEOUS?!?!
   I admit, I went through with the Botox injections, despite the feeling I was totally being hustled. Insurance doesn't cover any of it, and the doctor is in it to make MONEY. Much like any salesmen, they high pressure sale you into things you suddenly think you NEED. He wiped my face with alcohol, and one after the other stuck my face with a needle. They advised against grand facial expressions, crinkling my nose, squinting, and furrowing my brow.  I left the office completely dejected, despite the brochure that said the office was in the business of improving self esteem. I really have considered all these procedures before, and how amazing it would be to be perfect. I can say that without shame. Who hasn't? But having actually gone through with one procedure and contemplating all the others I was consulted on, I started to think about my body and my face.
   My boobs. They fed two babies, and they've been used to nestle two little faces, as they drifted off to sleep. Behind them beats the heart that holds an immeasurable amount of love. My stomach that housed my sweet infants, stretched to the limit as they grew strong and healthy. As mentioned before even my belly button holds memories dear to me. I was truly saddened at the thought of changing any of it! Who would've thought?? And lastly my face. The face that lights up at childish antics, the brows that furrow in annoyance at my husband, the crow's feet that deepen as I squint into the summer sun, and the lines around my face that crease when I belly laugh. I don't plan on going back, or ever getting any more work done. It took the experience to realize how much I really do love myself, and how disturbing it would be to alter any of who I am. Therein lies the rub, changing the outward, would be truly changing WHO I AM. I make dramatic faces. I like to smile, and scowl, I certainly don't have resting bitch face (at least not naturally) I smile at strangers, and I wink at babies. The lesson learned was that changing what I thought I hated, was in reality, changing what I love about myself. As I write this I am making a face that says contemplation and realization, and in six months from now you'll be able to see it again. Till then, I guess I will have to start writing my blog posts again to express myself! ...now I'm smiling. HA!