Forehead Lines and Other Inconvenient Truths

a.k.a aging gracefully (and other lies we tell)

There are few things more exhausting than toxic beauty standards. At a recent girls’ night out, the conversation followed a familiar script.

“Have you seen [insert trending female celebrity here] face?” one friend asked. “She looks amazing. What did she have done?”

“Filler, Botox, threads, and CO2 laser, from what I heard.”

“That’s insane. She’s barely 40. Why can’t she just age gracefully?”

“Who actually ages gracefully these days?” I asked, uninterested in pretending otherwise.

“No one,” someone else said.

“Me,” the lone dissenter chimed in. “I refuse to put neurochemicals in my body.”

“But you’ll vape,” another friend shot back.

We all laughed because we all knew the truth. She’s had Botox. In fact, I introduced her to the doctor that injected it into her line-free forehead.

The Lie of Aging Gracefully

We don’t live in a world that celebrates women aging. That’s not hyperbole, it’s fact. Women are expected to look youthful and flawless for as long as humanly possible. If we get work done, we’re vain. If we don’t, we’ve let ourselves go. It’s a rigged game, one where honesty becomes collateral damage.

So, we lie.

We attribute our smooth skin to hydration and our seven-step skincare routine (both are important but not the full story). We pretend genetics gave us the snatched jawline. We roll our eyes at those who go “too far” while secretly questioning what they’ve gotten done, sharing doctors’ names like insider stock tips.

botox with my favorite, dr. diamond

I get Botox: I admit it proudly. I post about it on Instagram, and I recommend my go-to doctor, Dr. Diamond, because his glow-up is legit and I’m not a gatekeeper. But what I don’t discuss publicly is that I get filler, too. Not excessively, but enough, and even though I believe in transparency, I hesitate to share this with the world because there’s an incessant shame around admitting that your face has had some help in maintaining its youth. For whatever reason, Botox isn’t stigmatized as much, but do anything else and you’re automatically labeled fake. Ummm, have you looked at your roots lately? Seriously. Coloring our hair is societally acceptable, as are facials and lasers and peels, but God Forbid we inject some hyaluronic acid to help with hollowness.

A nip and tuck here or there is common practice; we send surgeon recommendations and treatment plans in the group chat like gossip, but we’re silent about it in public because we’re aware of the judgement that comes from society. Sometimes in the form of hushed snickers, other times by blatant disrespect. In fact, the harshest critics are usually other women. It’s as though we’ve all collectively decided to internalize the unrealistic standards, and we speak truth only in quiet whispers with our closest confidants.

I’ve got news for you: Everyone’s getting work done (well, almost everyone).

serious question though…

My First Time Under the Needle

I was 26 when a friend looked at me and said, “Have you ever considered Botox?”

It wasn’t judgment so much as a statement of fact. I’ve always had a forehead that emotes—deep furrows and exaggerated expressions. Even in childhood photos, my face looked like it was reacting to breaking news. It’s been a constant source of personal contention. Some people fixate on their nose or their jawline, I fixated on my forehead.

My first Botox appointment was with a doctor who had questionable credentials, but I was young, and I wanted a smooth forehead, so I went with it.

I walked out feeling like I had officially entered adulthood. Until my anxiety convinced me I had poisoned myself by having neurotoxins injected into my forehead.. who willingly does that to themselves? I’m neurotic, I admit, and I spent the next eight hours standing upright, refusing to bend my neck, convinced I would somehow ruin the results… or die. There’s no in-between for a hypochondriac.

Where Do We Draw the Line?

I believe in subtle work and have no moral objection to tweakments, but I admit the line gets hazy. I, personally, don’t care to look like a carbon copy of every other overfilled, over-snatched face I see on Instagram. I don’t want my lips or cheekbones to scream a doctor’s signature.

But who am I to say what’s too much? I’m not here to tear any woman down for what makes her feel good in her skin. It’s a personal choice and one that shouldn’t invite judgment or gossip.

We rarely feel the need to comment on a man’s status of aging. Salt and pepper hair is distinguished, smile lines mean they’re loving life, and meanwhile, I’m over here in a spiral because of the grey hairs on my root line and the unsymmetrical lip, courtesy of the sixteen stitches, that makes me feel like half of my face is falling. If men had the same pressure to maintain eternal youth, maybe they’d be in the doctor’s chair, too.

Not everyone gets work done, and for those who truly age naturally, good for you, genuinely. Just don’t judge those of us who don’t.

And for the rest of us, share your doctor and treatment plans in the comments. Or DM me if you still want to keep it on the DL.