Ban the Botox

I have somehow hurt my bloody back & after blasting it with hot water in the shower this morning, in the vain hope that it would just miraculously get better, something occurred to me...maybe I'm getting old.  Can't be happening, especially since I don't believe in it!  So I dismissed the thought & went about my morning finding things to do in order to avoid the ironing.

Then, whilst attempting to load the dishwasher - in a stance that made me look like an old chook trying to squeeze out her daily egg (lest she get the chop!), the thought came back.  It would seem there's no way around it, maybe getting old isn't just up there with the tooth fairy (who I very much believed in until the ripe ole age of eleven...I think that's when the money dried up!).  

Anyway, it got me thinking about one very big fear I have (& have harbored for a good decade now), being that I bump into an old friend, or quell nightmare, ex boyfriend, & they don't recognize me, thanks to my bits & bobs rapidly heading south.  To be honest, when this fear first showed its ugly head I started showing my kids pictures of me in my 'younger days' (only an old person would use this expression...ugh), in a group & ask them to pick me out....like I was in a line up for the ageing!  Thankfully they have always been able to pick me...so far!

A couple of years ago, in order to halt my face from resembling the soft ball mitt it is rapidly becoming, I decided (after a not so subtle comment from the lady who (formerly) waxed my eyebrows), to try BOTOX, which flew in the face of all I believe in, (which mostly involves denial - not only effective, but free!).  So off I went armed with the ridiculous belief that I was to emerge ten years younger, & looking like Claudia Schiffer.  

The experience turned out to be a wonderful example of the difference between potential & reality.  

I potentially could have emerged as the first woman over 40 to appear in a Victoria's Secret catalogue, but in reality I left $400 lighter, with a very sore forehead; & to add insult to injury, no one bloody well noticed!

So a couple of months later, off I went again & like a MacDonald's junkie, I asked for them to 'super size me'.  My advice, never do this!  I emerged looking like a Basset hound & spent the next two months holding my eyebrows up every time I needed to read, or drive...or see anything.

So that's that, I grew my hair & can now put it up in a (little) ponytail & I pull that thing as tight as I can, & figure it must pull a couple of those babies back into place, & the rest can hide under my new fringe!  

I don't care what anyone says, forty is the new thirty, there is no such thing as getting old & anyone heard using the word cougar, should be shot on sight!

Think my back's feeling better now... :)