Okay, well, you’ll think that the title is debatable after this post.
Not exactly my problem.
So, it’s the Thursday before my birthday. On the 24th, I am going to be thirty-three years old. When I was turning thirty I decided to start getting Botox, for preventative reasons; it was kind of like, a gift of youth to myself. A gift that keeps on giving, literally, every three to four months.
At first I didn’t really want to tell anyone what I’ve done at the risk of being ridiculed. “You’re so young, you don’t need it.” “Why are you injecting poison into yourself?” “Are you that insecure?” “You’re so vain.” “Don’t you believe in being natural?” Yes, those are harsh statements and questions that have been asked once I started admitting my quarterly routine. Here are my answers:
- Yes, I know I am young. Thank you for pointing that out. I don’t think I would have remembered without the reminder. All that Botox must have gone to my brain. No, I don’t need it. I like it. I like the way my face looks. So I get it.
- I choose to subtly (key word, SUBTLE) inject poison into myself because it makes me happier regarding my appearance. Just like my nose job that I mentioned in a previous post. I am much more confident and happier since I decided to finally go through with it. Some people smoke, some people do drugs, some people drink, some people judge. Whatever makes you happy, right? Also, see my first bullet point.
- I was once insecure. I now feel that I am a very confident human, overall. Sometimes people’s confidence (not their looks) can make other’s feel insecure.
- I didn’t know choosing to care for yourself, in a certain way, is considered vain. I also put on make up every morning, before work, so I look less like Greta the Gremlin (that is literally me) and I am on my A game for when I see clients. Does that make me vain, too? Are the women who use the Beauty filter on Snapchat, to completely transform their faces, vain? (Hashtag, team no filter!)
- No, I actually hate being natural (insert typical Angela eye-roll right about here… yes, yes, right here, BOOM, there it is!). I like when my forehead has little expression, I like the light lift it gives my brow, I like not having wrinkles slammed across my forehead. I am actually scowling at you, judgmental person, and you wouldn’t even know it.
So, here’s the deal: No, I don’t hate myself. I don’t think I am hideous. I don’t think I need anything that I had done. I wanted it and I am happier because of it. This isn’t contradictory to accepting yourself the way you are and loving yourself. I feel that choosing your own happiness IS truly loving yourself.
Some people have asked why I admit it. Well, I admit it because I am not a Kardashian (that’s their prerogative to keep their completely different faces on the hush). I also know I am putting myself directly in the line of fire, judgements and comments. I am not ashamed of myself or what I chose and choose to do to make myself happy. I do what the f*** I want. I loved and do love myself to enough to understand that I am in control of my life and my happiness. I admit it because I find when I am honest about myself no one can hold it against me. Here is a little tidbit that I always laugh with myself about, every time I cry in my therapist’s office (oh no, I admit that I go to a therapist, too?! There has to be something totally wrong with me), I wonder if she sees this:
…and before anyone asks, YES, my lips are real.
& if they weren’t, it’s not anyone’s place to judge anyhow.
For more information on my doctor and his treatments, please see his website.