anna

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

The Promises of the Plague

For the life of me, I will never quite understand the idea of Botox. Just the thought of injecting Botulism into my face makes me question the sanity of these people. Now I realize vanity will make folks do strange things - especially southern women. But if someone told them that a shot of the Bubonic plague would guarantee slender thighs, I bet you would be amazed at the number who would sign up.



OK, I'll be the first to admit, as I've said before, I failed to get the vanity gene. however I'll also admit, not having an older sister, and my mother, although a natural beauty, had this notion that girls from 'good families' were not so concerned about makeup and such, it's not like I had a lot of adolescent support in that department. It's a wonder that I figured enough of it out by the time my girls came along to spare them that agony. Or at least I knew to send them to the Lancome counter for professional advice. My youngest daughter would say I never came close to figuring it out and her life was saved by Mac and Bobbie Brown. But I digress.

OK, let me get this straight, I am going to pay someone $125 a session for an injection of neurotoxin for the purpose of achieving the perpetual look of a Barbie Doll. Then, I will need to repeat this insanity every two or three months. And, what happens when a year or so down the road, some young whipper snapper of a medical researcher discovers, oh yeah, this 'wonder drug' has side effects, such as permanent facial parallelization, not necessarily where you intended. (You would find it upsetting that only half of your mouth can smile). Well, Miss Scarlett, I hate to tell you but the War is over, we lost, and the drapes don't fit.

Next thing you know, Cosmopolitan Magazine will come out with an article touting a new, sure fire way to ensure thin ankles for life - Typhus. Or, how eternally toned abs can be achieved, not with multiple trips to the gym, but a simple dose of Leprosy. And, Syphilis - guaranteed to stay off your dreaded gray roots for life. Just think of the promises Ebola, Distemper and Black Plague may hold. I choose to think not. After all, I'm still working with the lady at the Lancome counter on eye liner. 

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