I’ll start by saying, I know the idea of botox is a conversation of privilege. It’s expensive and honestly, a little time-consuming to go and get a couple of times a year. So read this article with a grain of salt and know that I’m aware that it’s an annoying thing to talk about. But at age 37, it’s a big topic of conversation amongst my friends.
HERE IT GOES . . . I’m concerned that I’m going to be the last wrinkly friend.
One by one, my friends are starting botox and I have mixed feelings about it. Maybe I’m just jealous that they all look better than I do. I’ve watched their forehead wrinkles magically disappear while mine continue to dig deeper with every RBF I make. I’m probably jealous that they don’t have to hem and haw anymore about whether to do it (like I am). It feels like a big deal to start. It’s not cheap, you have to keep it up, and like, I should probably do some research . . . ? I’m stuck in botox limbo.
Watching your face age, pull strands of grey hair out of your head, and wake up with a pinched nerve in your neck more times than you can count (for simply sleeping!) are all painful signs that we aren’t 25 anymore. And it’s a tough pill to swallow!
I’m sure like many of you, I sometimes can’t believe I’m a 37-year-old mom of two elementary school-aged kids. I still feel like I’m 32. Or on some days, 25! I wish when I was that 25-year-old I would have taken better care of my skin. There was no way I had a skincare routine and I sure wasn’t wearing a lot of sunscreen. I’m jealous of today’s 25-year-olds who seem to already know everything about taking care of their skin and have probably been doing it since they hit puberty. They are going to look fantastic by the time they are 40. Here I am, no longer getting carded at happy hour because it’s clear by looking at me, I’m not close to 21 anymore.
If I’m being honest, I wish as a society we all just agreed to age naturally. I hate this pressure to erase my wrinkles, manage a 10-step nighttime skincare routine, and be convinced on Instagram that I need to put natural products on my face while simultaneously being told that the only way to get rid of the wrinkles is to inject stuff into my skin. I want to look my best but does the pressure of looking as good as everyone else weigh on me more? Kind of. If we were all just letting our faces wrinkle together, maybe we would all be more content.
Obviously, I think it goes without saying that I believe that everyone should do exactly what they are comfortable with to help themselves feel happy and confident. And I certainly don’t judge you or my friends for getting botox. Most likely I’m doing it this year too. And I’ll probably love it and say, “I should have done this sooner!” But just know — I wish we could all just be wrinkly friends together.