I have to confess to an obsession of mine. It’s all consuming and it takes up a large part of my day, every day. I imagine a lot of you have guessed what it is already and you’d be right. I can’t stop Botox spotting.
When I leave the house, when I’m watching a film or slagging off The Only Way is Chelssex, I’m looking out for Botox. And if you think we’ve met and I haven’t noticed, you’d be wrong. I HAVE and on top of that I’ve done nothing but talk about your weird face since I walked away from you.
I don’t get Botox, what is the point of it? Why would anyone, especially an actor, want a face that doesn’t move? The ginger one from Desperate Housewives looks like her face has been ironed on. She looks like a cryogenically frozen Stepford wife suffering from mild malnutrition. I have no idea what her face is supposed to convey – unless of course it’s that of a blinking psychotic witch, in which case carry on. The truth is that you’re not going to see people from any other profession paralyzing parts of their body that are vital to do their job. Like a cricketer paralyzing his arms “ Catch!” (Balls cracks him on the head) “Sorry! This is awkward… I’ve just had my arms Botoxed so I can’t really move them. Don’t they look good though?” “Why did you do that you utter prick!” “Well, that’s just rude. I hope you know that I’m giving you the finger! Hang on….nope… dammit! You’ll have to imagine it instead.”
There is definitely a ‘look’ that women have in LA and it appears to be slowly creeping into British society. This look carries with it the idea that as a woman you must do your utmost to not look yourself. Instead you must try and look like a younger version of yourself, or ideally look younger than your young self. Like Lulu or Kylie who’s face currently moves less than the ceramic owl in my living room. My girlfriend genuinely thinks that Kylie hasn’t had any work done and that her face is completely ‘natural’. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? She looks so bloody waxy these days most people think she’s escaped from Madame Tussauds! When your waxwork figure starts to look more like you than you do, it’s time to stop with the Botox.
Meanwhile men are getting deep set wrinkles and growing hair out of their ears while their Grandkids use their jowls as a swing. No one has ever turned to Jack Nicolson and said, “Mate, you’re fat, you’re bald and you haven’t seen your penis since the early 80s. You’ll never work in this town again.” Of course they haven’t, we like our men craggy and old. We don’t like it when men try to fight the aging process, because the result is Tony Curtis who currently looks like a middle aged woman impersonating Quentin Crisp.
I’m not saying I’m excited about looking old, but I would rather have a face that matched my years than overhear conversations like this, “Her face looks incredible! But dear God, her neck…you could buff the car with it!” Whatever you do, age will catch up with you, so you might as well embrace it. I intend to let my face wrinkle while my boobs head south till they start to resemble Spaniel’s ears. No need for a bra ladies, just tuck ‘em into your belt. And on that note I’m going to pluck a rogue hair out of my chin, even feminists don’t want a goatee.