I’d laugh at her for being so vain if I hadn’t followed suit and copied her. Went to the same doctor, got the same treatment, and now have the same dazed and stunned look on my face that is on hers.
So while I can do the incredulous look on my face for the “really?”, I can’t do the “seriously?” part because it requires abilities I just won’t have again for about six months.
If you have to ask why the hell we did that, you don’t get it. You either have no crow’s feet or you don’t care that you have crow’s feet. Bravo to you I say.
T did this in the past, when she was still married and could happily spend money on all the usual girl googaws: Coach handbags, expensive hair treatments, designer clothes. Now that she’s living the vida loca y sola (translation: crazy and single life), she’s had to ration her pennies a bit. Which means Coach knock-offs, Miss Clairol, and Forever 21. But that doesn’t extend to botox. Apparently. (OK, so I fib just a weensy bit about the knock-offs – T wouldn’t be caught dead with a fake Coach bag…)
I think what I like best about this story is it means T will have to come up with a new sass-phrase. One that she can live with, and teach me how to do, for at least for the next six months or so.
Ouch. No botox for me, thanks. I like my expressive face. And I consider the faint lines around the corners of my eyes to be laugh lines, the sign of a life well lived. It's all about perspective, ladies. Own it. Work it. Be proud.
ReplyDeleteFunny stuff. And if she enjoys the Botox, I say continue.
ReplyDelete