Skip to main content

All I want for Christmas is... Two Units of Botox.

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...... 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Restaurants, Long Weekends and Resentment

Do you have a bathroom? After years of being in the restaurant business, I cannot express the happiness I feel at the prospect of having a long weekend off! Long weekends in a restaurant mean more work, longer hours and resentful thoughts to all those happy travellers who stop in and ask "do you have a bathroom?" To which you are always tempted to say, no, sorry we don't, there's a bucket out back you can use though. Do you have a bathroom? I am always shocked when I hear people ask this question, what the heck!? Of course, there is a bathroom! Whether you can use it or find it, now that is the real question. "Do you have a menu?" Nope, sorry we aren't that type of restaurant. "Is everything you have on the menu?" No we have a secret menu too, but we only show that to people we like. Last table in the restaurant... "Oh sorry, are we holding you up?"   Would you like something to drink... "No- I'll hav...
Post a Comment
Read more

Ruffling my Feathers

  I received my first “call from the principal” last week. He informed me that Gus had been in a fight. I am pretty sure my “I don’t give a @#$*” attitude surrounding the call did not go unnoticed.   However, I know my kid and if he got in a fight, well 1 of two things happened 1) his little fiery Greek temper reared its ugly head (that’s hereditary – so to be fair how can you get mad at a kid for his heritage??) or 2) someone really pissed him off. It seems it was the latter. It all had to do with a ball. I would venture to guess that this is what most 10 year old boys fight over; ball possession.   Seems the “victim” of this fight stole a ball and wouldn’t give it back when asked politely and then not so politely with a shove as he walked away. As it were, it came to fisticuffs. Later, when having the “talk” about the altercation, Gus explained to me, that after the first push by him, the other boy pushed him to the ground and started wailing on ...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Sock, The Dog & The Aftermath

At approximately 5pm Thursday March 19th an incident occurred.   It was an error on my part, but also WTF?  I was busy cooking dinner, chicken breasts with olive oil were on the stove. I was happily frying away when I went to flip a breast and a giant glob of boiling hot oil/chicken goo flew from my spatula and landed directly landed onto my socked foot. My foot began to feel the burn and I quickly pulled my sock off and threw it aside. Disaster averted. Or so I thought. I continue to make dinner and the sock remains on the floor. As dinner is nearly done Apollo awakes from his nap, spots the sock and in turn has found himself a new toy. He picks up the sock and begins to play. I partake in this game for a few minutes letting him run and frolic with the sock. But dinner is nearly ready. Enough!  I use my best authoritative voice and say, “Apollo! Come. Sit. Drop!” He stops his zoomies around the kitchen island and follows the first two commands beau...
2 comments
Read more