Have botox and fillers become so normal now that there’s actually a pressure not to be left (sagging) behind?
From mid 30’s-ish there’s no denying the Instagram or Snapchat filters are a woman’s best friend. We all know our best angle and are at least aware of the weird crooked-leg-model poses available – should the need arise.
We know how to hide our chinny baggage in a selfie. We know how to dress to look slim.
But we sail behind our boat race (face) come hell or high waters. There’s no hiding that one, unless you’re Sia or Blanket.
According to British Association of Aesthetic and Plastic Surgeons (BAAPS) over 51,000 Britons opted for cosmetic surgery in 2015, it was a record year for the industry. Overall, there was a 12.6% rise in invasive cosmetic procedures. Notably however, botox was not included in this study.
‘Cosmetic enhancement’ seems wholly acceptable, if not common place. Where ‘plastic surgery’ is banished to La-La land. This wasn’t an issue to me while confined to speculation on Pop Sugar or in the pages of Grazia. But, now the needles are creeping into the foreheads of those in my circle. The front line is closing in.
Living in the commuter belt and sauntering casually towards 40, I’ve become obsessed with spotting the frozen faced on our mums’ nights out. The trouble is, it’s just too damn good. The vials have outsmarted me.
I don’t want to offend those who’ve had it, I really don’t. They’re the ones laughing (with their eyes), they look ruddy marvellous! So why does it bother me? Is it the rat poison being needled under their beautiful skin, or … am I jealous? I wasn’t spending enough time taking selfies, or even looking in the mirror to notice the feathery lines creeping in. I’ve been caught short.
It’s no longer a level playing field. Is this in fact a race and those who don’t shoot up are being left behind?
What will old look like? Will we forget? A male friend of ours commented recently “people are ageing better”, I snorted “thanks to botox, fillers and peels”. I’m becoming a bitter, crinkled, un-exfoliated crone!
We are a generation quaffing pro-biotics, blitzing super-foods, indulging in hygge whilst happily having all our body hair lasered off and sand-blasting our faces.
I may have one final, nasty confession to make before the diatribe is over. Should those who partied hard, popping pills, nailing shots and frying themselves in the sun for a decade or two simply be allowed to wipe away the repercussions, or should they wear their glory days like a badge of honour? For a mere £300 we can eradicate our pasts. Well, for 3 months. Then it’s time for a top up.
Will I be begging for the hit in a few years time? Maybe, just maybe.
How do you feel about botox?
Image credit www.elle.com