I promised we would talk about Botox so let’s go!
I have not made a secret of the fact that I get Botox (and have since about 2017 or so), but I don’t talk about it a lot. It’s not a choice that has ever felt fraught for me, probably because my original motivation wasn’t tied to considerations of youthfulness or attractiveness. Over the years, I have not been tempted to expand my regimen to include other types of cosmetic interventions, like fillers, chemical peels, laser treatments, etc. Now, at 46, my face has lost quite a bit of volume and definitely looks ‘older’ than in the past. Sometimes, that does bother me a bit. But, still, I have not taken any other steps to ‘address the issue’, as it were — nor, at this point, am I planning to.
I started getting Botox because of my Resting Bitch Face. I can’t tell you how often I’ve had people mention, once we started talking, that they initially thought I was intimidating/cold/aloof, etc. At rest, my face does have a tendency to look ‘severe’ and, in the past, that was exacerbated by my ‘elevens’ (the large wrinkles between my eyebrows) that made me seem like I was constantly frowning even when I wasn’t. I got Botox to smooth them out, and found it helped quite a bit. After a while, I extended the injections to my forehead as well, because it felt weird to have a smooth section around my eyebrows and deep wrinkles immediately above. I have an extremely expressive face so, when I talked, it was noticeable.
Thinking about all this now made me realize some uncomfortable things. First of all, that my decision was definitely influenced by societal expectations for women not to present as ‘bitchy’ or ‘intimidating’ — something we don’t require of men. I am working to make peace with that. For better or worse, it is an economically rational choice (my appearance does impact my professional life, as someone who works in a client-facing role). I know that, by making it, I am reinforcing the societal norm, and that is something I am grappling with. When and how will it be possible for me to stop participating? I have a lot of relative privilege, given my race, profession, financial situation, etc., but I am still part of the ‘rat race’ for the time being. Will it be different once I retire? Maybe.
The second and more challenging realization is that my decision represented an attempt to compensate for and mask my own past trauma. This has brought up some very heavy feelings for me. Let me explain.
I was diagnosed with ADHD a few years ago. I have since come to believe that my neurodiversity includes a component of autism as well. I am high-functioning and have spent my entire life masking the things I felt were “odd” about me, to try to fit in. From a very early age, I had a sense of being a kind of alien, an observer looking in. That feeling was exacerbated when I became an immigrant. My first experiences in a new country (and language) were mostly unpleasant ones. My new classmates ostracized and bullied me, probably for many reasons, not only my foreignness. I was twelve when the bullying started — terrible timing, given how difficult adolescence can be in general, and how formative. It has taken me years of therapy to come to terms with everything that happened and to understand that I have lingering psychological damage from it.
My only ‘weapon’ against my bullies was to retreat into a shell of pretend detachment. No matter how devastated I was inside, I was determined not to let it show. I stayed quiet, detached, seemingly indifferent to people. I learned not to approach strangers, but to wait for them to talk to me first. It worked … in the sense that, after a while, my bullies got bored and left me alone. But it also meant that, from that point on, I struggled to make friends. My so-called aloofness was a wall that kept out potential foes and friends alike. I didn’t realize that until later, when I was in my early 20s — and that’s when it became an extra source of worry and shame. Once again, I was failing to fit in. So, I began to over-correct. To go out of my way to show people that, no, I’m not a bitch, I’m just shy (and terrified of how others will engage with me). Honestly, it was exhausting. Getting Botox was the easiest part.
But, looking back, it’s also maddening. Here, again, was a case of me changing something about myself to accommodate other people. To make them comfortable around me, when I was not extended that same grace when I needed it.
I am due for my biannual Botox appointment next month, and for the first time, I am questioning whether I want to go through with it or not. I haven’t decided yet. I probably will do it again, if only because I don’t feel ready to make a definitive decision in what still feels like the heat of the moment (emotionally speaking), so keeping the status quo seems like the way to go in the meantime.
But there is something else I wanted to share in this context, which has been on my mind since I listened to that episode of Diabolical Lies where they talked about fillers. Briefly, I found the discussion around the effects of fillers — how they don’t actually get absorbed in the body as people have been told, but rather just move around, leading over time to the appearance of ‘filler face’ — really fascinating and thought provoking. One of the hosts made the point that, basically, the first dose of fillers looks amazing, but that same effect can never be recreated again and chasing it leads to increasingly worse/less ‘natural’ results. Hearing this made me glad that I was never tempted to start down that path, but it also made me think about something else.
Cosmetic procedures become a status symbol in the last 20 years or so, but now that some of them are becoming increasingly accessible to ‘regular’ people (aka non-millionaires), I am wondering if we are going to see a swing in the opposite direction. Not to get bogged down in Bourdieu, but status symbols derive their power from inaccessibility. They are meant to differentiate and demarcate the boundaries between classes. If normies can get fillers, what are the rich going to do? Sure, they can get better fillers from better (more expensive) injectors, but it sounds like that’s a case of diminishing returns even for the rich. Look at Hollywood actresses over a certain age — or, hell, even certain billionaires who shall remain nameless. We have already started seeing signs of a trend of ‘glorifying’ visible aging. Mostly in white, affluent women — and mostly limited to white hair and a few aesthetic wrinkles — but still. I am curious to see where we go from here.
If aging becomes the next status symbol, it would make sense. Think about it. It signals that the person has the privilege to opt out of societal norms of beauty, at least the prevailing ones, but also the privilege to age ‘gracefully’. And it’s extra desirable because, for many people, it’s out of reach if, up to now, they have been using cosmetic procedures to look younger. Again, remember that fillers cannot be dissolved (without removing natural volume as well). So, basically, aging is a “look” only some can achieve now. Of course, we would still be talking about a curated version of aging, not the regular normie kind … but you know what I mean.
For this to happen, though, society would have to ease up on its obsession with youth, which has been a driving force — and, in recent decades, a status symbol — for a very, very long time. Will the pendulum fully swing? Or is society simply going to redefine the correct way to look youthful, to introduce new barriers to keep out the ‘barbarians’ trying to climb to the top of the status totem pole? Something to keep an eye on, if you’re interested in cultural phenomena 😉
