Photobooth. What a wonderful time waster it is, looking back at the selfies you have taken of yourself on it over the years, especially if you’ve got a desktop like mine which is so old it could almost be an Amstrad.
Anyway, there I was, time-wasting away when I came across one which really stopped me in my tracks. Yes, it was me, of course it was me, but at the same time… it wasn’t me at all. Something about my forehead and the arrangement of my eyes, like a wonky Mr Potato Head version of me, almost. Was that around the time the kids told me I didn’t look like their mummy? And I didn’t know what the hell they were talking about?
And then (*hand smacks forehead*) I suddenly realised. That was indeed the summer I went and got Botox from Dr ******. Just goes to show, sometimes you are not the best judge of your appearance when it comes to cosmetic intervention, or at least not at the time.
And then, not so long ago, I was turned on to Dr Tapan Patel at the super amazing, super high tech Phi Clinic on Harley Street. Are you a Botox-hater? Okay, please: go and see Dr Patel. If ever there was a person who could make you change your mind about the stuff, it is he.
He GOT what I meant when I told him it made me feel like a prehensile cave woman with that weight bearing down on my forehead. He GOT what I meant when I said I felt slightly frozen and claustrophobic with it in there. He also got my aversion to the idea of filler, particularly lip filler, which in my opinion always shows, however little they put in there. When I tell him about ‘That Look’ which I so despise, I don’t have to elaborate, he KNOWS what I mean.
You don’t know what I mean? Think Real Housewives. Not that there’s anything intrinsically wrong with any of those Real Housewives; just that that’s not my profile here in Barons Court in my non-leather, non-Arizona, so-not-this-season Birkenstocks. If I’m going to have to have some cosmetic intervention, it’s got to fit in with the lifestyle and all.
Okay, so he’s given me Botox (in my jaw, above my upper—ouchies—lip and in my forehead). Nothing bad happened, in fact quite the opposite, though I cannot pinpoint for you exactly how. All’s I know is, the kids haven’t mentioned a thing.
Now. There’s this thing he does for “pebbly” jaws such as mine which he calls a “Liquid Face Lift”. It involves a combination of Botox and the dreaded Restylane, but I’m already about 95% sold on it given his subtle yet pleasing results on me thus far. I’ll let you know how it goes, shall I?