If I had the means (and/or the nerve) I would totally be pumped full of neuro toxins. May not sound that attractive, but heck yeah, I would do it. I think my forehead would appreciate a little relaxing.
And if it weren't for a stinking anaphylactic allergy to muscle relaxants I would absolutely give it a shot. Ha! No pun intended. And yet, even with the threat of death, it still crosses my mind at least once a week that I should look into injecting my face full of botulinum toxin type A. And really, are muscle relaxants and botulism in the same family?
But as I sit here typing away, Coco Loves IceT has come on the TV. Have you seen this show? Seriously what the heck?! Coco is apparently 33. I was so shocked that I had to Google her. She is, in fact, 33. (And just as a side note, IceT is 54! Holy senior citizen! Still, to this day, when I see IceT all I can think of is him dressed as a kangaroo... Tank Girl. Great movie even though IceT is clearly a freak)
Thirty-Three. There is such a thing as too much "work" being done. Yikes. Coco is actually so altered that I just assumed she was in her late 40's somewhere. Her face moves (or doesn't move, as is the case) like a socialite soccer mom with a crush on her dermatologist.
And I won't even begin the conversation over Coco's boobs. Holy crumb?! Who wants tatas that big?! I don't even know how she could clap her hands. Her arms wouldn't be able to connect that closely.
If I were to get poked by a few units of Botox, maybe get a little lipo, I know I could draw the line... or could I? Would I turn into one of those trout mouthed, perpetually confused looking females who start to eerily resemble wild cats? Could I just stop at a nice smooth forehead? Or wait, a nice smooth forehead and some newly wrinkle free eyes. Oh nuts... what about the preventative stuff? Maybe while they are fixing my forehead and my eyes, maybe I should get my lips plumped a bit so they don't start to line... oh yeah, and those marionette lines could begin to show any day, they really should be nipped in the bud. Crap, and I guess my eyelids could start to droop soon... what should I do there? I'll just get them to plump them up a bit too...
Ok, so maybe I could have the potential to go a bit overboard.
For now, I guess I will have to rely on my good genes (thanks, Mom) and different magic potions to keep my face somewhat crease free. There are some lines creeping in and some definitely settled. I don't like it, but as they say, I guess i have earned them. Pffft whatever that means! If anything I have earned the right to be as smooth as I wanna be! Geez louise. Now I have gone and upset myself. Botox would probably relax me. The inability to frown could trick me into thinking that I wasn't upset. Therefore, I think I could equate that Botox = Happiness. Hmmm. One of the age old mysteries solved right here. Not bad for a night's work.
I guess this whole conversation can only mean one thing... OH NO! Yep, it is true. I am in fact getting older. Scary, I know. What's scarier is I still feel like I am a teenager. A classic old person feeling. Eeeek. I guess, I could take comfort in the fact that everyone believes me to be younger than I am. Whether that is the result of the gene pool (again, thanks, Mom) or the immature attitude... I don't really give a rat's ass. Whatever it is, I'm working with it, baby! I will stick to my guns... you are only as old as you feel. So, don't bother asking the number, as my son will tell you, there are two things you never discuss with a woman, her age and her weight.
As the aged typing hands are drawing near to the end of this story.. I am reminded that I really do need to put my Christmas list together for Santa.
Dear Santa... all I want for Christmas is two units of Botox.
(possibly more, but I don't want to come across as greedy)
And since you are making the trip down the chimney anyway could you also bring me......
And if it weren't for a stinking anaphylactic allergy to muscle relaxants I would absolutely give it a shot. Ha! No pun intended. And yet, even with the threat of death, it still crosses my mind at least once a week that I should look into injecting my face full of botulinum toxin type A. And really, are muscle relaxants and botulism in the same family?
But as I sit here typing away, Coco Loves IceT has come on the TV. Have you seen this show? Seriously what the heck?! Coco is apparently 33. I was so shocked that I had to Google her. She is, in fact, 33. (And just as a side note, IceT is 54! Holy senior citizen! Still, to this day, when I see IceT all I can think of is him dressed as a kangaroo... Tank Girl. Great movie even though IceT is clearly a freak)
Thirty-Three. There is such a thing as too much "work" being done. Yikes. Coco is actually so altered that I just assumed she was in her late 40's somewhere. Her face moves (or doesn't move, as is the case) like a socialite soccer mom with a crush on her dermatologist.
And I won't even begin the conversation over Coco's boobs. Holy crumb?! Who wants tatas that big?! I don't even know how she could clap her hands. Her arms wouldn't be able to connect that closely.
If I were to get poked by a few units of Botox, maybe get a little lipo, I know I could draw the line... or could I? Would I turn into one of those trout mouthed, perpetually confused looking females who start to eerily resemble wild cats? Could I just stop at a nice smooth forehead? Or wait, a nice smooth forehead and some newly wrinkle free eyes. Oh nuts... what about the preventative stuff? Maybe while they are fixing my forehead and my eyes, maybe I should get my lips plumped a bit so they don't start to line... oh yeah, and those marionette lines could begin to show any day, they really should be nipped in the bud. Crap, and I guess my eyelids could start to droop soon... what should I do there? I'll just get them to plump them up a bit too...
Ok, so maybe I could have the potential to go a bit overboard.
For now, I guess I will have to rely on my good genes (thanks, Mom) and different magic potions to keep my face somewhat crease free. There are some lines creeping in and some definitely settled. I don't like it, but as they say, I guess i have earned them. Pffft whatever that means! If anything I have earned the right to be as smooth as I wanna be! Geez louise. Now I have gone and upset myself. Botox would probably relax me. The inability to frown could trick me into thinking that I wasn't upset. Therefore, I think I could equate that Botox = Happiness. Hmmm. One of the age old mysteries solved right here. Not bad for a night's work.
I guess this whole conversation can only mean one thing... OH NO! Yep, it is true. I am in fact getting older. Scary, I know. What's scarier is I still feel like I am a teenager. A classic old person feeling. Eeeek. I guess, I could take comfort in the fact that everyone believes me to be younger than I am. Whether that is the result of the gene pool (again, thanks, Mom) or the immature attitude... I don't really give a rat's ass. Whatever it is, I'm working with it, baby! I will stick to my guns... you are only as old as you feel. So, don't bother asking the number, as my son will tell you, there are two things you never discuss with a woman, her age and her weight.
As the aged typing hands are drawing near to the end of this story.. I am reminded that I really do need to put my Christmas list together for Santa.
Dear Santa... all I want for Christmas is two units of Botox.
(possibly more, but I don't want to come across as greedy)
And since you are making the trip down the chimney anyway could you also bring me......
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