Botox is Really a Marriage Saving Device

Ok, folks.  I have another a confession.

I have visited the Botox fairy a few times, (he is a friend who serves wine on his couch.)  He has been good to me.  More importantly, He has been good for my marriage and my personal relationships with anyone I have to deal with face to face.

If the Mayans are wrong, I will turn forty on “12.21.12.”  I am getting a lot of slack from friends accusing me of staging this whole “Mayan-End-Of-The-World-Thing” so I can be thirty-nine FOR-EV-ER.  It seemed like all my girlfriends were trying the Botox and all of my (pretend) girlfriends on TV had been doing it for years and so I said…

“Sign me up!  All these woman are making me look old!”

The first time “I did it” I didn’t tell my husband, Jim.  I wanted to see if he noticed.  He didn’t but hilariously found a moment to go on a tangent to our boys about how good I look and that “I don’t need any kind of assistance” when they asked why some women on TV look shellacked.  I was dunking and laughing around the corner.  How do you tell him after that?

I don’t think it altered my looks that much.  For me, I am a face maker as I am pretty animated, it is probably just keeping deep grooves from forming between my eyebrows.

Here is what I learned though.

People don’t need Botox for wrinkles.  The real reason why all women should be getting Botox?

Because you cannot make the, “You are such a dumb a$$ face!”

Your husband will instantly think you love him more.

I also cannot figure out why Botox is not being marketed to people with these tag lines…

“Get Botox and make your husband feel like a genius!”

“Botox makes everyone wonder what your secret to happiness is.”

Botox is really missing the mark here.  There is an entire market of people that they haven’t even tapped into.

Even those suffering from mental health issues could benefit from a little Botox love.

“Suddenly, people find me more approachable!”

“It makes the voices in my head stop making the poop face.”

“Why are you looking at me?!!!  Is it because you think I’m pretty?  Do you think I am pretty?”

If this stay-at-home-mom thing doesn’t work out I am sooo going into marketing.

Have you tried any procedures to make yourself feel refreshed or younger?  Would you?  Are you more of an “age gracefully” kind of person?

If you have had Botox, did it go well?  Did you have any problems?  I ended up with a black eye once because I took ibuprofen before the injections for a tooth ache.   I looked so cute with my black eye.

No other mammas gave me any lip at the bus stop.  I looked so tough with my black eye and scary emotionless face.  Yet another benefit of the Botox.

Abbie, All that makes you… at allthatmakesyou.com 

Even spicy buffalo sauce, coffee flavored beer and Nevada excitement did not cause a forehead wrinkle!  I don’t look a bit crazy, do I?

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• To Botox or Not to Botox (lookingforthesweetspot.com)

Back Before You Could Just Go And BUY boobies

There is a conspiracy between the generation of women above mine in our family. Truth be told, they were cooler than my cousins and I were at any stages in our lives. They were beautiful and wild and they were becoming women in the late 1960’s and 70’s. My mom and her sisters wore their hair long and drove convertibles and raised hell all over town. The three sisters had six daughters and our grandparents were still complaining about what they had to endure raising “those girls” by the time our generation was old enough to hear the stories.

This is my 6th birthday party.  That’s my mom with the two party horns in her mouth.  Do you see the boys looking at her ?  Do you see all the little girls mad faces?  Yep, that was my childhood.  I was the boring kid wrapped up in a towel in a chair who couldn’t hold her breath underwater.  I had to watch my mom water ski on the top of the waterskiing pyramid. I was the girl who the boys wanted to come and swim at our pool, because my mom was there and she was fearless and funny and even the room turned to follow her around itself.

We granddaughters really just wanted to be just like them. We wanted to iron our hair and wear tight jeans with high heels and go out dancing. We all wanted boys to chase after us and girls to wish they were us. I wanted to have pool parties with the stereo playing outside and wear a crocheted bikini.  We all wanted to be like them.

If we were going to be as cool as our moms and our aunts we were going to need boobies. If we had boobies like them, then we too could command the entire towns attention. If we had boobies like them we could wear a crocheted bikini.

Back then you didn’t go and buy boobies like today. You either had them or you didn’t. You either had them because you were on the heavier side and since boobies are, well, fat or you sold your soul to the devil because you’re a size 2 jeans with a size D cup. These were some mean skinny girls with some giant knockers. I can prove that they worked for the dark side.

Here is my mom at my sister’s birthday party.  I have no idea where my sister is.

(insert an aunt or mom’s name), “Do you know how we all got such big boobies?” This inquiry was always presented to all us cousin girls during our tween years. “Chicken poop. That’s right. We all rubbed chicken poop on them when we were your age. It makes them grow. Its like fertilizer.” Always said in a very relaxed matter of fact way.

They worked for the Dark side.

What makes them really evil?  We had 250 chickens at “The Farm”.

I am very happy to say that my boobies eventually grew in and my sisters grew in so well she even had to have some taken off.  It turns out someone, way back in our family, sold their soul for the boobie gene.  Since I didn’t have to pay for my boobies I wonder if I can get a “belly button restoration” before I turn forty?  I want to wear a bikini again and after my twins (11.5 pounds) and a 10.5 pound singleton (Peter) turned my bellybutton into a cup holder, I think I deserve it.  I also think my mom, (wherever she is) would be smiling and holding up a frozen grasshopper with an umbrella at the sight of her pasty white little girl jumping in the pool in a smokin’ hot crocheted bikini and pinching her nose.

If you enjoyed this oldie read “I may be on the “No Chaperone” list after this one.”

Follow me so I can continue to dredge up all my embarrassing moments.  I need an audience when throwing myself under the bus.

Were your parents cooler than you or were you cooler than your terribly embarrassing parents? 😉