Botox or no-tox?

Surely I'm not the only one feeling the societal pressure to erase any signs of ageing. The question is, how do we balance beauty with our beliefs?

Photo by Diana Polekhina on Unsplash

I’m 36 years old—and while I hate to admit it—when I look in the mirror, the first thing I notice these days is the deep frown line that’s etched between my brows. Not my blue eyes. Not the smattering of faded freckles splashed across my face like relics from my childhood. But my frown line.

While I don’t remember exactly when I became so fixated on this one so-called flaw—I suspect it was around the same time I had children when the lack of sleep began to show up on my face like an uninvited house guest—in recent months, I’ve found myself struggling to reconcile the part of me that wants to say: fuck it, let’s all age gracefully—and the part of me that is feeling immense pressure from society to stop time in its tracks.

I know I’m not the only one struggling with this internal battle—let’s be honest, the pressure placed on us as women to look and be perfect is as old as time. But as I crawl out of the depths of early motherhood once more—I feel even more confronted by society’s expectations of what I should look like as a 36 year old, mother of two than I did just a few years ago. According to every publication I read, every television show I watch and, of course, every social media platform I scroll, I should look as well-rested and smooth-faced as a 23 year old. Actually, I should look like as well-rested and smooth-faced as a 23 year old who has already invested in preventative Botox—and yes, it’s a thing apparently.

For the sake of transparency, I’m happy to share that I have, in fact, tried Botox once. After many years of feeling somewhat neutral towards cosmetic injectables, I admit I was curious. And after the birth of my first child, I was also feeling more tired than I ever had before. So I thought, why not? I’ll also admit that while I didn’t it expect it to be a miracle fix for my sleep woes, as I handed over upwards of $500, I did hope that I’d meet my reflection with a little more love. Plus, the wonderful women in my life who I knew used Botox regularly looked incredible in my opinion, so I was hoping that a little of their freshness would rub off on me.

While I did feel that familiar Botox freeze that people talk about, I wasn’t blown away by the results so I put it in the ‘been there, done that’ pile and moved on with my life—frown line and all. That was until I found myself postpartum for the second time, struggling through another period of intense sleeplessness. When I looked in the mirror this time, I couldn’t help but feel the frown line was getting bigger, deeper, darker. I looked pissed off—even when I wasn’t. And this, perhaps more than anything, is what has made me reconsider Botox once again.

According to a study in the Journal of Cosmetic Dermatology, research has found that when people had Botox to help prevent frowning, they experienced reduced negative mood. But while this is kind of fascinating to me, as I edge towards the deadline at which I’m medically allowed to have Botox again (post-pregnancy and breastfeeding), I can’t help but question whether I’m considering it because it might make me feel good, or just because it’s become as normal as getting a hair cut. With Australia’s facial injectable market valued at US 3.5 billion in 2022—with projections illustrating annual compound growth of 27.3% from 2023 to 2030—it seems that Botox and its counterparts are only going to become more and more common and accessible.

For the first time since high school I’m feeling what can only be described as a silent sort of peer pressure to look like I’m in my early 30s—as opposed to the reality, that I’m actually edging towards my 40s. And while I’ll state for the record that my stance on virtually everything in life is: you do you—especially when it comes to what a woman decides to do with her body and what gives her confidence—what I am passionately opposed to is the societal pressure we still feel to look and behave in a certain way.

Mean girls, it's time to grow up.

While there’s no question that this pressure has its roots firmly planted in the patriarchy and the beauty standards that are ingrained in us from childhood—I think it’s become more complex and nuanced than that. I can certainly argue that for many of us, we want to partake in these beauty treatments because on some level it does actually make us feel good. And as we know, when we feel good in ourselves and our self-esteem is high, we also project more confidence—and experience improved health and wellbeing. But for me at least, there is also an element of comparisonitis at play. I personally feel the pressure to engage for the simple fact that everyone around me seems to have a forehead as smooth as my toddler—and I certainly do not.

But the confusing reality I find myself in now is about more than just making a conscious decision to participate in what feels more and more like a societal norm. Another consideration is that the cost of Botox is prohibitive. With experts recommending top-up treatments every 3–6 months (as results may vary from person to person), if I was to commit to Botox, it feels a bit like a life sentence. Can you ever jump off the rollercoaster? And if I decide to scrimp, save and fork out my hard-earned cash, will I also be able to take my kids on that holiday we’ve been planning for years? Perhaps not.

The other factor I can’t seem to ignore is that unlike when I tried Botox for the first time, I’m now raising a daughter and I want her to grow up knowing what my face looks like—with all its emotions. I’m also very conscious that while I grew up in the age of crash diets, blatant misogyny and body shaming—she will be part of a generation of digital natives, with the perils of social media and cyberbullying a very real and scary reality. Put simply: I’m scared that she might feel the same societal pressure to alter herself that I’m feeling, but at a much younger age—particularly if online influencers continue to sell that their ‘fresh face’ is simply a product of a healthy diet, getting enough sleep and drinking plenty of clean, filtered water. This is the type of rhetoric that I fear is most damaging.

Still, despite all this discussion, I remain unsure as to where I stand on the subject. I’m certainly not opposed to Botox (many of my closest friends, fellow mums and colleagues are dedicated devotees) and it’s surely a positive that compared to just a few years ago, there is less shame and stigma attached to how we as women choose to present ourself in the world. I’m not even sure I won’t do it again as the frown line is joined by even more colourful characters creating a story map across my forehead—but I am becoming more and more concerned that my desire to remove any signs of ageing says more about what others think of me, than it does about what I think about myself.

We are told that ageing is a privilege, but it seems the caveat remains: as long as it doesn’t show up on our faces.

---

New beginnings & false starts

Why are we still mother shaming?

Soon