The Skincare Edit: Musings on Botox

5 minute read

Will I tell you a secret? I hate how Botox looks when it kicks in. I actually hate it for the first month, sometimes longer. I hate the stretched look, the tight feeling. I hate how sometimes my brows move in a way I don’t want them to. When do I like how it looks? Probably two weeks before it completely wears off (which bodes the question, why bother?)

In a few months, it will be two years since I last had Botox. It’s a procedure that I have a love/hate relationship with. It’s something I first tried out in my early thirties and instantly hated, and then liked, and then hated again. I can count the number of times I’ve had it done on one hand plus an extra finger. I have never approached it with any type of regularity, and I know exactly why. Because Botox, for me, is an inside look at a series I like to call ‘When Simone Feels Bad About Herself’.

It’s something I have reached for over the years when I feel tired, when I feel old, when I feel run down. When I’m not feeling myself, basically. And then after the appointment, and after the kicking-in period, I realise this. And so, I end up still not loving myself, albeit now with a slightly frozen forehead. Not ideal.

My foray into Botox over the years has taught me something pretty meaningful about myself, however. And that is that I appear to be perfectly comfortable with ageing (a relief, as I’m high maintenance enough as it is already). This comfort has come from watching my mother age, in a true embodiment of the word, gracefully. It’s also come from my longstanding obsession with all things skin and the respect and understanding I have for my epidermis and its needs. But mostly, as clichéd as it might sound - it’s come from just being here, and living my life, surrounded by people I have chosen to surround myself with, and embracing the heart-swelling clarity that only comes with getting older.

Nonetheless, I am aware that this is just how I feel right now.

I have no idea how I will feel a few years from this moment when I am older and, most likely, not wiser. Will the fine lines on my forehead deepen and start to bother me? Will I start to obsess a little more about my suddenly softer jawline? I don’t know, is the completely honest answer.

Beauty, for me, has always been a feeling. A marker in how well I feel, and how happy I am at that particular time. Some parts of this feeling are in my control; eating well, exercising, staying hydrated, following a seven-step skincare routine. But some are not. Like life changes, traumatic events, illness, relationship changes, and big moves in jobs and homes. All have left their mark on my face and my heart over the years.

If I had a chance at this moment in time to make one simple wish for my midlife skin, do you know what it be? To continue to be comfortable living in it.

To enjoy it, enthusiastically. To care for it and respect it, and watch with wonder as it changes and softens like my mothers’ did like her mothers’ did before her. To be in possession of skin that has loved deeply and been loved deeply in return - and has the wrinkles and fine lines to prove it.

Does this mean I’m fully embracing a natural approach, however? Maybe. Maybe not.

I’ll see how I feel.

Simone Gannon, May 2021