So this weekend, my sister hosted a Botox party. I turned 45 this year, and I've really taken care of my skin. But STILL. There are THINGS. Gravity is dumb. Making expressions, like we primates do, carves canyons in obvious places. I've been wanting to try this procedure for years. If nothing else, it's good research for stories about alien experiments or something. Anyway!
My sister, myself, our mom, and several friends were all thrilled to hang out, eat, laugh, and get stuck with needles. I do NOT like to think of myself as squeamish. I laid under a tattooist's needle gun for an hour and a half and prided myself on my nerve and strong stomach. And during the party in question, I watched a friend and my sister surrender their skin to the RN. No problem. I rushed to be third in line, plunked down in the chair, laid my head back, processed the feel of the needle in my forehead so I could remember it for future reference, told myself to not really think about it, listen to the conversations and laughter going on around me. A minute later: done. Forehead complete. Now to wait till the numbing balm really takes effect on my upper lip, cuz my sister inherited a gorgeous upper lip and I got zilch. I'm not bitter. Not at all.
But as soon as the RN goes back to her kit to refill while we wait, I start feeling a little queasy. No worries, I'll just breathe through it, it'll pass. Then the little black grainy flecks start prickling across my vision. My sister asks me, "Are you okay?" (Later, she said I was green. Apparently, that actually happens.)
I nod, in full denial. A few seconds later, I admit it: "I think I'm gonna pass out." I do not remember anyone running to me. Next thing I know, I'm waking up. My sister is holding me in the chair, my mom is fanning my face with a paper plate. Thank God these are calm women. No one panicked.
Up till this experience, I've only ever fainted when having blood drawn. (Didn't even occur to me I could FAINT while getting Botox!) But this time, in front of everyone, my body did one better. "I think I'm gonna throw up." Someone shoves a trashcan under my chin, and sure enough, there's no stopping it.
All the while, I'm thinking, "WTF?!?! Why does this happen to me? Body, you're so stupid."
Well, the barfing shoves blood back where it belongs, my head clears, and I come fully around. My friend brings me water, my sister gives me anti-nausea medicine, and someone asks, "Are you done?" As in, Are you finished with the Botox?" Well, after everything I just went through, I consider this an affront. I declare, "I'm not stopping! Stick me again!"
By golly, I came here for an upper lip and I'm not leaving till I get one. Ah, the things we do for Beauty. She who loves no one in return.
In the end, the party was a grand success. We had a blast. Plus, a couple days later, the canyons in my forehead are relaxing into gentle valleys, and my upper lip is marginally plumper. Will I do this in again in six months? Perhaps. With the caveat that "I'm in no way squeamish. I just faint now and then."
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