When I say what doctor I go to for Botox, 9 times out of 10 they say to me…
“You get Botox? But you don’t need Botox!”
“Yes, exactly.” I say, “That’s why I get it.”
So many of my friends remain on the fence about Botox, a word that I find being generically used more and more to describe all things injected into the face. My friends are terrified they’ll come out with frozen faces à la Nicole Kidman. And when I say, just try it—but make sure to go to a respectable provider, of course—the most common fear I hear is: “but my husband will kill me.”
So many of my friend’s husbands have mandated an injectable free policy, imploring their wives to stay away from “Botox” (using it as a blanket term for all injectables). Uneducated in the arena of cosmetic dermatology, they label all frozen and puffy faces the result of this thing called “Botox,” regardless of what filler or injectable it may be from.
But what they don’t know is that many of the ageless beautiful women they see are actually getting Botox (the real Botox).
They’re just getting it more expertly and conservatively, and by doctors who are not only technically “certified,” but who also have experience… and most importantly, a sense of artistry.
The world of cosmetic dermatology has become so lucrative, with very little regulation, and it’s full of doctors unwilling to say no when patients ask for one more vial: as a result, many faces are becoming distorted, and the amazing world of non-invasive aging treatments has gotten a bad name, very quickly.
I first tried Botox when I was 30.
I rarely lie to my husband, but I went and got it anyway. I didn’t tell him for months.
In month 3, I confessed my sins. I said, “You didn’t even notice?” and he admitted, “You’re right.”
I admit the first time I got Botox injections I was terrified, truly.
I read once that one of my musical idols, Stevie Nicks, had gotten a lazy eye from a Botox injection that took five months to go away, and it was all I could think of. I begged the doctor to only inject areas where there could be no possibility of this “lazy eye,” and she calmed my fears by telling me she would not inject above the eye, and only to the side. She said this is where they teach new students to inject, because there is less risk in this area. I felt slightly calmer.
Over time I became less fearful.
I now get small injections where crow’s feet might form, and a few tiny injections around my brows. I have continued to get Botox every 5-6 months for the last 7 years. The cost ranges from $500-$1000 depending on how much or how little I get that session.
I consider the $5,000 over the last 7 years I have spent on Botox an investment, an investment in myself, and I don’t think any woman should feel shamed about it. To be honest, I have spent a lot more money on my hair color over the last 7 years, and I don’t consider that to have the same long-lasting, satisfying results as wrinkle-preventing Botox.
Illustration by Rebekah Flores