I’m starting to feel the pressure to get Botox and fillers because they are just so normal now

Stefanie Preissner

"I’ve noticed that Botox has migrated from some clandestine thing people used to do and never admit to, to this glorious power symbol." Stock image

June 19 2022 02:30 AM

I don’t have a skin regime. My skin seems to share some DNA with aloe vera plants or cacti or other organisms that thrive on neglect. My grandmother had a skin regime and it stood to her — even as a corpse, she glowed. Her routine was more about consistency than high-end products. Oil of Olay, day and night, from the age of 20. From forehead to collarbones.

I drink a lot of water and I would say I wash my make-up off 80pc of the time. My skin isn’t bad, but I’m starting to feel the pressure of Botox and fillers because they just seem so normal now. Dermal fillers are as popular as the administration of them is unregulated. That means you can have anyone who calls themselves a cosmetologist — maybe having learned on a weekend course — inject filler into your face in your living room. Or theirs.

I’m not precious about my surroundings, but do I want someone injecting my face while I can hear their family cooking a stir-fry?

All of these girls I see look pretty, if pretty homogeneous. I think there’s beauty in the uniformity of it. A group of golfing men I once knew all took a trip to Turkey one summer and came back with the exact same teeth. Some people thought it looked ridiculous, I thought it was just more of a committed version of friendship bracelets or matching tattoos. If my friends and I all decide to get the same forehead and lips, will we be like the Pink Ladies from Grease? According to the ads I’m seeing online, my face needs to be smooth, but also supple, but also stretched like a fresh canvas.

I’ve noticed that Botox has migrated from some clandestine thing people used to do and never admit to, to this glorious power symbol. I remember the first time I saw someone who’d clearly had ‘work done’. I whispered to one of her colleagues to confirm why her cheeks resembled polymer clay and was quickly informed that Botox was like fight club — you’re not allowed to talk about it.

Back then, you had to pretend that you hadn’t thought about your face since your mum used to lick her finger to wipe chocolate off of it. Nowadays people report live from their clinics and proudly post transformation shots. My concern is that it’s starting with younger women now, so even if I did get the hankering for it, I’m too past my prime to ever get back to what is now trending as fashionable.

Trying to get that dewy, glowing face without needles involves a litany of verbs I barely understand. You have to clean it, shave it (dark-haired ladies, am I right?), tone it, mask it, exfoliate it, screen it, nourish it, moisturise it — and that’s just some of the skin on your face! There are different verbs and rules for your eyes; a whole new world of creams and serums to erase bags, fine lines, wrinkles and dark circles. Surely, it’s just easier to invest in a nice big pair of shades and avoid selfies?

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From brow lamination, to lash lifts, lip fillers, to a sprinkling of Botox, there is no end to the augmentation that’s possible on a face. Obviously too much is hideously comical, but the right amount definitely suits some people.

Looking at ourselves on Zoom for two years as the world fell apart has expedited people’s desire to look a certain way. For example, one body part I thought everyone was ambivalent about was their eyelashes. We all agreed that Disney had created a false and ridiculous sense of what a woman’s lashes should look like, and I thought we were all on board with whacking on a bit of mascara and calling it a day.

Then, I found myself on a Zoom with a girl who looked like a rockhopper penguin. (If you haven’t seen one, look it up — their eyelashes are like batwings coming off their eyelids.) I was mystified and asked her about her eyelashes. She explained that she gets faux mink hairs glued on top of her own lashes and then a technician paints each lash with lengthening, volumising, water-resistant colour. I have the same tube of mascara I got for my debs… I felt like a Dickensian street urchin looking back at her.

After the call I went online and bought some mascara that an influencer was peddling. I now feel less scared of getting conjunctivitis from a 20-year-old product, but I still feel like I’m being more aesthetically irresponsible than my fellow citizens. I’m sure I’ll get over it eventually. Time, as they say, is a great healer. Pity it’s a lousy beautician.