Botox: My honest review

Before all this end of the world stuff I got Botox for the first time. Even though I've been blessed with a bit of an auld scrotum forehead I didn't have any major hang ups about my skin or my face. It was more the 'sure fuck it' I'll give it a go mentality that had me interested.

I was nervous getting it done but was busy having an argument with myself that ‘you said you'd do it just fucking do it’. All the staff were lovely and the doctor understood my concerns around not wanting my tough as old boots forehead being frozen simply re heeled so to speak. Of course these days Botox and fillers are common place. There more Thearpie clinics in Ireland than Supermacs for god sake (there’s not, but there’s loads and it can’t all be laser hair removal, come on!) But for my generation we will always have the image of Leslie Ash ingrained in our memories. During the 90s the actress from Men Behaving Badly got lip enhancing surgery that went wrong and her mouth was never the same again. The general vibe from the media at the time was ‘silly woman’- ‘she was beautiful looking and didn’t need to do anyway to herself’.

There wasn’t much sympathy going around for poor Leslie but attitudes thankfully have moved on now. So before the first prick graced my mammoth head I’d concluded that if the Botox did go wrong it would eventually wear off AND I’d defo be able to do the rounds on TV3 day time, sorry Virgin Media(but like we all still call it TV3) and it be good for the profile if nothing else.

After day 3 I liked the results- but I wanted it to stop there. To be honest I wasn't comfortable with how fresh I was looking. All evidence of being a professional filthy look thrower was disappearing and to my surprised I didn't like it. This was around the same time I noticed the massive bruises on my frown line which obviously prompted me to start looking up guide dog options in case I was going blind.

When the Botox had fully developed the funny faces I had mastered over time were gone, the tension from my noggin? Gone! But where, where had it all gone? My arse? I mean I’m no doctor but it has to go somewhere!  . The final straw come when I had to get it topped up after 2 weeks. My forehead was so vast they’d missed parts.  So that was more bruises just as the original ones had gone. By the time the bruises had gone and it had settled (i.e. I stopped looking like I was constantly indifferent to everything happening around me) it was basically starting to wear off.

pic that I had to send a few weeks after to show they had missed a spot!

Sometimes I feel like the reliable middle ground is missing from the information we consume online. It was grand but it didn't change my life. It wasn't like an episode of the Swan back in the day where I went from looking like I was on the verge of a breakdown to mid breakdown but now with perfect teeth and a killer arse.

I did it, I didn't hate but didn’t particulary love it. You might, who fecking knows? But if you decide not to get it come sit down the back with me. We can look tired together (like we'll get a few mad facials and chemical peels though). And honestly if you get it you’ll still be tired. Anytime someone told me I was looking well I felt obliged to sit them down for 20 minutes and tell them about my Botox experience. Not ideal but I feel myself and the delivery driver my Ly Garden have a real connection now.

LOOK, I might get a little for the crows’ feet at some stage but the forehead needs to be out in the wild doing its thing, being the foundation to mad expressions. At the age of 36 I’m not going to start heavily investing in my appearance- hats, dimmer switches, candle light and bangs will do. And here’s hoping the next needle I meet is full of juicy vacine.