I’ve caught myself a couple of times staring at my eyebrows in the mirror because the closer I slide towards the big 3-0 the more pronounced my glabellar lines become (the bit between your eyebrows that goes saggy and looks like a number 11). I think it’s because I tend to frown when I’m driving, rarely wear sunglasses and knit my eyebrows together in concentration when I’m doing anything else. In short I don’t look after my skin and should by rights have a face like an old leather handbag hanging approximately somewhere around my knees.
I was shocked to find myself thinking ‘perhaps I’ll get a little botox’ because I’m 29 not 59 and that feels like a slippery slope to be heading down. It would start with a little hit of Botox, then maybe I’d invest in some filler in the scar on the side of my nose, then perhaps I’d pump up my pout and before long I’d look like I’d been made in a factory in Taiwan.
I wish it wasn’t made so easy to have cosmetic procedures done and that you couldn’t pop into high street chains and be pumped full of chemicals. It’s all so convenient which is normally a good thing but when it comes to people making permanent changes to themselves there should be more thought about it. It really grinds my gears that there are surgeons out there who let women have procedure after procedure (as long as they have the money to pay) without ever stopping them to say ‘bitch please, don’t be having any more surgery because you’re starting to look like a freak and yes I know it means I’ll have to do without my new Porsche but I’m prepared to do that for you”.
Instead we have unscrupulous arsehats who take pretty young women like Heidi Montag and turn her into a circus freak who brings me out in a rash when I see her taut plastic face and gigantic boobs. Of course all the surgeons in the world could band together and try and stop the flood of women over doing the slice and dice by having a gentle word and perhaps dishing out a psychologists business card but there will always be one who will do whatever he’s asked as long as he gets paid.
I’m not going to pump myself full of botulism, instead I’m going to rely on the old trick we used as kids. That’s right, I’m going to put sellotape between my eyebrows before doing bust increasing exercises, ‘I must, I must, I must increase my bust. The bigger the better, the tighter the sweater, the boys depend on us’. It’ll be just like being thirteen again.