It's Not That Deep

My daughter’s new sound byte: It’s not that deep, Mom.

So the other day in my stories I mentioned I’d stopped using botox last year. I was surprised by the immediate feedback from hundreds of women. It was all the same.

”Why?”
”I was thinking about it, what made you decide?”
”Just the brand Botox?”

And look: It’s not that deep, Mom.

Botox is by far the best cosmetic pick me up out there. It’s a few hundred dollars and snatch. Hands down. Don’t touch the filler.

Here’s my issue.

I’m forty-five years old.

Here’s my issue.

I was getting botox once a year and it was annoying. I hated doing it. I hated the fear that a nerve would get hit. I hated that I felt like I was fucking around with beauty. I did love the snatch.

But once a year is not bad, so I kept it up until one day I had an appointment with, a friend, Dr. Sturm.

I went to her house in Beverly Hills and she refused to botox me.
We stood in the middle of her expansive living room overlooking West Hollywood, she tucked her chic blonde cut behind her ear. I waited as she looked at me, and then she said with her thick accent,