I'm not your bitch, don't hang your shit on me.

Tuesday, July 05, 2016

I did not get plastic surgery

It's a balmy night and my friend D and I are sitting on his rooftop patio having a drink.  We've been talking for the past half-hour about work, but in the middle of our conversation about something, he leans forward, about to say something and semi-pauses.  He's cautious.

"I have to ask you something and I hope you won't be offended," he asks.

"Ok," I sit back.  I was expecting something lurid, but it was close to it.

"Have you had any..." he does a finger gesture for a needle injecting and points it to his forehead.

"Work done?"

"Yeah, have you had any Botox, or anything?"

"Nope.  I mean, I would like to have some for my 11s, but I haven't done anything."  The 11s are the two parallel lines between the brows that can be deep if someone furrows their forehead a lot.


I nod.

"You don't have any wrinkles," he says.

"If you think I look good, you should look at my dad.  He never used anything, or sunscreen, and he probably has a few lines on his face."

"Ahhh, genetics."  D leans back in his chair.

While some people are offended if they're asked about their plastic surgery, I'd be one of those to tell everyone what I'd done (not to mention talk about the experience in detail).  But when my face falls, I'll find a way to pull it back up.  Time to put away some money for an emergency slush fund.