This feels like the most ridiculous and vain blog post I’ve ever written, and that’s saying a lot – I mean I post a gratuitous amount of crop top photos, share all things about my life, and waste your time talking about celebrities in thong bikinis.
BUT WAIT! There’s more. I Botox’ed my forehead two weeks ago. I pumped that sucker full of some sort poison you get from canned foods and it is straight paralyzed. I would be 100% lying if I told you :
A. I didn’t love it
B. I didn’t spend even more time in front of the mirror than I already do, except now I just try really freaking hard to move my eyebrows ( spoiler, I can’t).
Woah woah woah. Before you get all judgey-wudgey on me. Let’s step back a moment. No, I’m not even 30 yet (I know it’s what you were just wondering) but I have recently started to really feel the effects of… well, getting old.
I went to the dentist this month and ended up with my first two cavities, IN ALL OF LIFE. The derm appointment wasn’t just all vanity, I also needed to have my first mole removed, IN LIFE. FYI – I’m still not sure if it was cancer? God I love the sun, I sure hope not. Don’t panic, I wear SPF… after all – I’m trying to not look old.
So, anyway – I’m slightly falling apart. I’m kind of a wreck, and lately I’ve been a super duper enabler for myself (DO WHATEVER YOU WANT PEOPLE! I AM!)
Here’s my thought process: I’m spending about $3 a day working out these little baby winkles with over the counter peel pads on my face and they’re only kind of working. So why not turn up and spend a bit more and get majorly serious with some poison in my face that will just knock out any chance of those bad boys even having the ability to form? So yes, I figured if my forehead can’t move, it can’t get wrinkles. Because I’d be lying again if I told you I didn’t love it when 23 year old boy-men hit on me in bars and I’m not ready for that to end just because I look a little tired. Even if they’re just trying to take a trip to cougar town, while they flirt, I want my forehead to be as smooth as satin.
So, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. I hope you all never have the chance to see my forehead move EVER AGAIN. And if you’re thinking about doing it, just well, DO IT! It doesn’t even really hurt (all those real housewives are faking it when they tear up with Dr. Paul).
You might also be wondering why I’m not just keeping my dirty little secret to myself. Well, that’s because:
A. I’m an oversharer who is super vain, as identified above
B. I’m just not that kind of girl. I want all y’all ladies to look fine as all get out. I’m not here to hoard beauty secrets and lie and tell you I just sleep 8 hours a night and drink tons of water and that’s why I look this way (I do those things too though)
If you live in Cleveland, check out my homegirl Dr. Sara Lohser, she’ll do you right and make you laugh. Once she’s done being pregnant, she’ll also drink beer and play kickball with you… if you’re looking for that type of lady friend 😉