I am not shallow, I swear I’m not. Honestly, I promise. Maybe I am. But I really, really do want Botox. Dermal fillers, skin tightners, wrinkle smoothers. All that shit. Yes I do. I am a modern woman I tell you, I’m just taking advantage of all of the options us modern chicks now have. Its power, isn’t it? Isn’t that what its all about? Now we have choices? Now we can choose. Yep. Just being a modern woman I am.
I’m just saying, I have bad genes ok. That’s all. Dear mum I love you, but there is furrows, furrows at 40. I kid you not. Furrows.
That means if I remain on this course of action I have like 9 good years left. 9ish good years before I must wear bug like darkened sunnies wherever I go. Furrows I tell you. Shit. I am doomed. I want, no I need Botox.
I am just taking matters into my own hands, taking care of business like a boss, a boss in heels. Yup. I am a modern woman, with power and choices. These days we have all these amazing things that mum never even considered, like dishwashers, hair extensions and this amazing invention called ‘tampons’. Yup, we live in good times for our gender.
I am not shallow. I just compulsively control every aspect of my appearance. God forbid I am seen in public with out my eyebrows landscaped and perfect mascara in thick black shards. God forbid I assault the world with my face before I have had a least an hour to wrangle my morning yeti self into something fit for human consumption.
Into something palatable, something respectable, as my grandmother would say, something fit. Fit, good enough, worthy … Oh shit. Crap. Modern woman I tell you. Nothing more. We have power I tell you.
So for now I am just going to go with the modern bit, ok. Lets just roll with that.
So I make my self an appointment at this exclusive clinic in the city. First appointment free, of course darlings, free. The office is further away than I anticipated. Get there all sweaty from rushing, shit, they are going to know I’m a fraud. Just be cool, Take a seat.
I hear these killer heels clip clopping down the hall ‘Ms Aj?’ I look up to see this fucking fabulous woman, plastic perfection, she is so thin I wonder where her bloody organs are. So inadequate right now. This way. So I follow her heels down the hall, and I’m mesmerized by the perfection of her bottom. Yes I was looking at her bum. It was perfect, butt perfection. I swear she either has butt implants or spends every other waking hour doing butt crunches. Wow. My mind wonders to the saggy baggy elephant story I read my kids. Inadequate.
So we take a seat. Short discussion about my needs and wants. Closer now I get a good look at her face. Her forehead does not move. Perfection. Her eyes show little signs of crows feet. Nice. But it’s just that, well she is ugly. She was like cardboard. Her features, and behind her eyes, just cardboard. Her skin was all weird and shiny, like she was healing form a recent facelift. I’ve no fucking idea. But close up her plasticity was less mesmerizing.
On with the consultation. So she pulls me closer to her, examines me, considers her thoughts, and then … Ok love, yup, we can definitely help. You are going to need at least 750 on each side under the eye, she says as she draws a triangle with her fingers around my bags. At least 350 in the forehead and a bit more around the downturn of your lip, probably another 450 each side, thereabouts. We can’t make promises, but we can do our best to get results.
Wait what? My lip? My forehead. Fuck. Who knew I had so much that needed fixing. Shit. Ok so that’s 750 milligrams. No dear dollars. Ok. Oh ok. So your saying I need like at least 2K spent on my face before I am worthy? I mean 2K spent on my face before I can be a boss in heels, a modern woman like you? Shit. I may as well go slit my wrists now.
I made my excuses. And left her perfect heels and bottom. As quick as my saggy arse could take me.
I decided that it is cheaper to work of my sense of worth. My sense of self. To redefine age and ageing. To somehow be thankful for the history that is left on my face, and for the furrows that will inevitably come. Shit. Not there yet. For now eating lots of avocado and lathering my eyes in expensive eye cream.
self portrait- 2013