Getting work done
Getting work done. No, I am not referring to finishing your tasks for the day. Or getting your car spray painted in metallic purple shimmers; I’m talking about cosmetic procedures.
It’s funny how you can hold an opinion on something, and then through the mere passage of time, it can change. I always thought as a youngster (which to me means under 30 really) that I would never get any ‘work done’. I used to say that God made me this way and therefore I was meant to look exactly as I am, big nose, strange chin and all.
Of course I thought many a time that if a magic genie appeared I may want to ask for longer legs, a cute button nose (like my sister’s) and a nice chin. But wishing on a star, and being willing to undergo surgery or an invasive procedure are two very different things.
Needless to say, now that I’m on the other side of 30, and chuffing along quietly towards 40, I am suddenly more open to having work done, and no longer judgemental of those who do. It has obviously come about at the same time as the emergence of wrinkles, the disappearance of taught collagen-filled skin, and the onset of less-than perky breasts after having had 2 children.
Essentially, in my 20s, I didn’t need anything to be nipped or tucked as it was all where it should be. Now my body is doing strange things (which are apparently completely normal as we age) and bits are going places they shouldn’t (i.e, south!) and a nice quick fix would be wonderful.
To be honest, I’m a bit of a wimp, and as much as I love the idea of lovely new boobs or a cute nose, the thought of being cut open and then coming out extremely sore and bruised sort of terrifies me – and at the moment far outweighs my desire to change parts of myself.
Then of course there’s the other major factor – the money! I’m told that a boob job costs around $10 000, which is rather a lot of money when we’re a) saving for our dream property in the Southern Highlands, and b) there are a lot more responsible (and less selfish) things I could do with that money (such as donate to an orphanage in Sudan or buy medical supplies for kids in Haiti).
But short of going under the knife, there is a middle ground it seems. Cosmetic procedures which are only mildly invasive (and sore) such as botox are an option. In fact, a dear friend of mine (who is only 33) just started having botox on her face.
I personally don’t think she needed it, but she wasn’t happy with her frown lines or wrinkles around her eyes (which are probably a direct result of the fact that she is an orthopaedic surgeon who works harder than anyone I know and has been perpetually studying for about 15 years).
Anyway, she’s trying to get me to go along with her to the next session (when her current botox wears off at about the 3 month mark).
But the thing is, I don’t really think I need botox. I have a few frown/laugh lines, and crows feet around my eyes, but I really think it would be a waste of $450. If I had a spare $450 lying around to spend on frivolous vanity, then I would probably rather spend it on a skin treatment such as photo rejuvenation, microdermabrasion, or some sort of salt scrub and mud wrap – basically something that would improve the look and texture of my skin (particularly my thighs and stomach).
And I also worry about starting any sort of anti-ageing measures like botox, as I figure once you begin, its hard to stop, and then what? I certainly don’t want to have that crazy frozen-face look that Nicole Kidman and the like have.
There’s a fine line (excuse the pun) between ageing gracefully and helping things along, but I do think it’s important to look your age. A woman in a shop told me the other day I looked 25 (I am 33) and I almost kissed her.
But my sister, who was with me at the time, did point out that the woman looked barking mad, and she was just being nice to us because we bought loads in her shop... True on both counts I admit, but it made my day, and has held the botox off for another day.
by Sunny de Bruyn