DISCLAIMER: This post contains multiple Real Housewives references and various other trivialities.
I’m definitely not obsessed with plastic surgery. Mainly, because I can’t afford to be.
No, in all seriousness, while I’m definitely no stranger to insecurity, for the most part, I try to rock the goods I got.
Small boobs can actually be sexier sometimes! A big nose gives you character! I tell myself. Or maybe that’s actually my mom talking…
And while I can definitely admire Nicole Richie’s tasteful new breasts or Ashlee Simpson’s slender, new-in-like-2006 nose, I realize I’ll probably always be rockin’ the goods I got, because A) I’m chicken, B) because said mom would prolly kill me, and most importantly, C) I really do love me and don’t think I want to mess with a fairly decent situation (no cankles, phew!).
That said, a little bit of Botox? Never say never, dahhhhling (in my best Lisa Vanderpump voice).
Okay, have you seen some of the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills? No, not Taylor, silly. Kyle’s face is like amazing flawless. Same with Brandi Glanville’s. And I don’t know what Vanderpump is doing, but if I can look that good at 50-something, sign a lady up! Let’s not even go there with gorgie Yolanda. No way sister’s giving that good of face from just her fresh lemon-cayenne cleanse.
So, their expressions are a little less-then. No biggie. When Brandi is screaming at Faye Resnick, you know she’s MAD. When Kyle is boo-hoo-ing over Kim’s ongoing issues, you know she’s SAD. When Yolanda is exalting her never-there husband, you know she’s LYING. It’s all good!
Now I know it’s not just Botox that keeps these ladies lovely. No doubt they’ve had plastic surgery and are also getting regular facials, peels and other fillers. And they’re living a relatively non-stressful life shopping for every color Hermés belt. Still, there’s definitely appeal in their youthful appearances.
I seriously never thought I’d be discussing such things at my “youthful” age of 32, but I’ve got my share of laugh lines (read: unattractive crow’s feet) that certainly reveal my not-in-college-anymore status. Oh, college. Definitely don’t miss the crop tops, over-plucked brows, low-slung jeans and fake tans. Definitely miss the toned, tight skin.
Meanwhile, hubs over here is rocking a speckling of gray hairs just above his ears, and I seriously find it sexy. So not fair. Now, let’s bring him into this. My “never say never” musings are met with BIG protest from this guy.
How stupid. You better never anything to your face. Don’t be like those women.
Oh, you mean the ones you like to look at? I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t put up too much of a fight if Camille Grammer needed new Greek cougar bait.
My problem with his argument is that he, like most men, is usually totally clueless about the beauty tricks women have up their sleeves. He’d never suspect Botox in Nicole Kidman, faux lashes on Megan Fox, hair extensions on the Kardashian sisters or even airbrushing in the Victoria’s Secret catalog. They come out of the womb that way, right? On the other hand, we women can spot that shit like a designer clutch at TJ Maxx.
My point is, we all have to find our own ways to level the playing field and keep up with the Kardashians. Or the Albas. Or those smokin’ little Angels.
Back to male oblivion, one of my closest (and actually one of my least vain) friends recently got Botox to remove her mid-brow wrinkle and her own husband didn’t even notice. Luckily, she manages all the finances in their household, so hopefully it can stay her dirty little Housewives of San Luis Obispo secret. She loved the results and can’t wait to do it again.
That said, as with all things in the beauty realm, it’s a fine line between flattering and straight up fugly. Case in point: travel just a little south to the Real Housewives of Orange County and things aren’t looking all diamonds and rosé anymore. Serious overkill on the plastic surgery, spray tans and the bling-adorned clothing. Tragic, really. I mean, remember when Gretchen was cute?
So, while I’m not dabbling in the injectable toxin tidepool just yet, I won’t rule it out. The way Logan’s dealing out tantrums these days, God knows I’m on track to get a lot more wrinkles. For now, I’ll cling to my youth via fillers for my closet.
And, Mom: If I come home one Christmas looking more like my 16-year-old self (minus the frizzy hair and braces), you’ll know the jig is up. Just don’t tell Nick.