In which mummy gets her face ironed
My face causes me no end of bother. It’s one of those faces that prompts London cabbies to say: “Cheer up love, it might never happen.” And stops people striking up conversations with me because I look a bit aloof. It’s true! People honestly think I’m a bit of a bitch, when I’m not, ask anyone! (Well, maybe not the people who live opposite the fig trees round the corner. Or the teachers at Ben’s primary school. Or the Wanneroo City councillors.)
But seriously, I’m a nice person, despite what my face says. Do you need a kidney? You can have one. I have two! A womb? Borrow my womb! I’ve drunkenly offered it to countless gay friends, but not a single one has taken me up on my surrogacy offer. It’s vacant; you’re welcome to it. And the other day, Ben’s friend was lost on his way to a birthday party, and his dad rang to ask for directions, but I’m useless at giving directions, what with the whole left and right thing, so I told him to come to my house and I’d drive him there myself. That makes me a nice person, OFFICIALLY.
My face just sends out the wrong message, and the situation’s getting worse as I get older and tireder and wrinklier. That vertical line between my eyes? That’s the culprit, right there. I look PERMANENTLY pissed off. Here’s the thing. I’ve always been quite photogenic. Honestly – I look better in photos than I do in real life. Or rather, I LOOKED better in photos than I did in real life. It was my thing. But just lately, I’ve stopped wanting to have my photo taken. I’ve taken to wearing sunglasses ALL the time. I have considered growing a fringe. This has coincided with me also watching an awful lot of The Only Way is Essex. I cannot get enough of that shit, and there’s not a wrinkle between those bitches. Damn you Chloe Sims; I WANT your smooth plastic head.
You see where this is going, don’t you? I got Botox. And after getting Botox, I have only one question for you: why the HELL didn’t I get Botox a decade ago? That stuff is brilliant. Actually, I didn’t even get Botox. I got some different generic brand. I dunno. I didn’t ask questions. Well, I asked one question: WILL IT MAKE ME PRETTIER, and the answer was yes, so I signed the disclaimer and off we went.
My friend Fiona, when I told her I was getting Botox, asked a pertinent question: “Who are you getting Botox for?” And it stopped me in my tracks, it really did. But the answer is, 100% me. Paul pretends he can’t even see a line between my eyes, and when I told him I was going to get Botox, said: “Oh! Can I get a thatch then?” The answer was yes, of course, if it makes me feel less guilty for spending the week’s grocery money on face poison. I’m not in the habit of doing things like this. Oh, tell a lie, I did have IPL on my face after my mum told me I’d have a better chance of getting a boyfriend without freckles. Oh god, it was awful. It was like being burnt repetitively with a lit cigarette. On your face. Can you IMAGINE? And then every single freckle on your face scabs up, so you look like you have a terrible and terminal face disease for WEEKS. Never again. Awful.
Botox is much nicer. A pretty “nurse” in a pretty dress and high-heels asked me some questions and told me some stuff about not bouncing up and down for a bit, or something (I wasn’t really listening), and then phoned a “doctor”, and then poked me in the head a few times with a needle. As I said to Fiona (her again), it was painful, but in a good way, you know, like getting your legs waxed. She seemed to find this a perverse and unusual thing to say, but you know what I mean, yes? And then it was all over. Five minutes! Possibly even less! The “nurse” (I didn’t ask to see professional qualifications, but I have my suspicions) told me it would take between three and five days to completely work, and that it could be up to two YEARS before the line was completely gone, but already I can see a difference. I just look less pissed off. Granted, it’s not as easy to express surprise and wonderment when my daughter does a poo in the toilet, so I just clap instead. So Botox. Yes. Best $150 you’ll ever spend. Do it.