One of the greatest benefits to being mother-of-the-bride is that it gives you a free ticket to almost any beauty regimen you have ever wanted. This spring it was my turn to be mother-of-the bride, and I was determined to take full advantage of this perk.
I mean, how many times does one’s daughter get married? Once, we assume. And aren’t all eyes on the mother-of-the-bride, after they have taken their eyes off the bride? Well, maybe not, but let’s go with it.
So began my no-holds-barred foray into vanity spending. First, I bought not one, but two mother-of-the- bride dresses (look back to my posting of February 14, 2018 for the details). Then, of course, beautiful shoes. Another pair of flat shoes for dancing. Earrings and bracelet to go with the dress. Another dress and shoes for the rehearsal dinner. Then we move on to real luxury: manicures, pedicures, eyebrow waxing, and a facial. As I said to a friend who asked me what actually happens in a facial, “I don’t really know, and I don’t care. All I do know is that someone is going to rubbing my face with lotion for 90 minutes.” And it really was glorious.
Then I did something for the first and very last time in my life: Botox. Yes! Botox! I wanted to get those frown lines erased between my eyebrows. I did not want to walk down the aisle with what appeared to be a scowl. And so, with my self-given permission to buy anything and everything I wanted because I was, let’s not forget, the mother-of -the-bride, and with a very good Groupon deal in hand, I set out for the procedure.
The esthetician (look that one up in the dictionary) explained the procedure. She would inject Botox into the area between the brows. This would paralyze the muscles temporarily, thus easing the tension and erasing the wrinkles. She said sometimes the lines don’t erase if they have been there a while and so I would then need another procedure: a collagen filler, which she casually informed me cost $550. There are limits to what this mother-of-the-bride will spend, believe it or not, and that was out of the zone. So, I just hoped the Botox would do the trick.
Let me tell you, getting needles stuck into your brow hurts every bit as much as you might imagine. Maybe even more. I left the office feeling stunned and teary. I was admonished not to drink alcohol for 12 hours, but I was not sure I could comply.
The result: I’m still frowning. Apparently, and unbeknownst to me, I have been frowning for a long time, as evidenced by these intransigent wrinkles. No changes as far as I can see. I walked down the aisle with a scowl.
Here is what has changed: I cannot voluntarily furrow my brow. It is indeed paralyzed. The next time you see me, ask me. You’ll see me staring at you bug-eyed while I attempt the furrow. It is not moving.
So now I not only have a frown between my eyes, but it is an immobile frown. Which makes it hard to tell someone like my husband, John, that I mean business. Like, “I’m really mad right now, and you can tell because I have my angry face on, so you’d better do something.” No, he cannot see it on my face. I have to use my words.
The esthetician (who, by the way had her own set of clearly immovable facial muscles) told me this would last 8 weeks. I can hardly wait until it wears off.
John, and everyone else around me, needs to know I mean business.