Sarah Pollok: Should I get Botox? A debate with my 27-year-old self

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THREE KEY FACTS
Sarah Pollok is a Multimedia Journalist at New Zealand’s Herald, specialising in covering stories on travel and tourism.
OPINION
In the early 2000s, cosmetic surgery was an obvious yet taboo activity exclusive to celebrities and the super-rich; stars such as Joan Rivers or Michael Jackson who could afford to tweak their lips, noses or foreheads but couldn’t afford to admit it. In just a few years, the injectable cosmetics industry has been fine-tuned; so too have a growing number of faces in our friend groups and workplaces.
As a 27-year-old woman, my running list of imperfections is at least 12 years old, so imagine my awe after realising my generous cheeks and strong Polish nose (number two and three on the list) weren’t as permanent as I thought.
Ridiculous? Ask around and you’ll learn many women aren’t fantasising about tweaks — they’re getting them regularly.
Whether I should be one of these women is something I’m almost perfectly divided about, resulting in a lively debate with myself that looks a little like this …
Me: I dye my hair, tint my eyebrows, and get IPL hair removal. How are cosmetic injectables any different to these forms of beautification?
Also me: It feels different because no one is under the impression that my hairless legs or neat eyebrows are natural. These beautification methods are conspicuous but the current trend of “tweakments” or “barely-there Botox” is designed to be imperceptible. It’s like quiet luxury, a type of inconspicuous consumption that subtly conveys status and wealth but instead of buying organic meals or personal trainers, you’re buying “natural” beauty. This isn’t morally wrong but I can’t help but feel duped when I discover a colleague or friend’s enviable cheekbones, lips or jawline were purchased.
At a recent work event, a woman in her mid-40s was complimented for her amazing skin. The question asked was “What skincare do you use?” not “What clinic do you visit?” She admitted her skincare was Botox, but not everyone is so honest and many still assume some are naturally blessed, not tweaked because they can afford it.
There is also a lot the industry is still working out. For example, “preventative Botox”, a popular trend among 20-somethings seeking to avoid wrinkles in the first place, has now been called “a waste of time” by experts and it can prematurely age people. A bad dye job or fake tan is temporary. If I get generous lip filler because it’s 2015 and big lips are trendy, I need a second procedure to dissolve them years later when trends change.
Me: Secrecy is frustrating in a society that moralises “effortless” beauty yet shames the desire for or pursuit of it. People shouldn’t lie about getting work done or attribute it to some product or lifestyle (especially one they’re selling). There is, however, a difference between lying and proactively telling people your cute nose is the result of rhinoplasty or lips are thanks to filler. People are not obligated to share with every new person they meet.
With technology improving and taboos fading, cosmetic work is becoming more common and soon, the assumption will be that people have had work done. If transparency is important to you, have the procedures then be proactively honest in person and online.
Also me: I have a bone to pick with the “you do you” mentality because it blatantly ignores the collective consequences of individual actions. If I pay someone to make me look younger, I’m raising the bar for all women, which quietly punishes those who don’t meet it. I’ll be one more person who represents a new standard for what a 20-year-old, 30-year-old or 50-year-old should look like, which is (in case you missed the memo) under no circumstances, old or flawed.
Ironically, I’m also supporting the industry that told me I needed to be fixed and labelled it “self-love”.
Me: Participating in beautification can raise the standards for others but you already do this in dozens of other ways from expensive facial products to expensive gym workouts. Besides, your impact on the global standard is inconsequential compared to the confidence you would feel daily having fixed the imperfections that irk you.
Also me: I agree cosmetic injections would join the list of things I already do. But that’s part of the issue, right? It’s just one more thing to add to the tedious checklist of aesthetic tasks — one the men in my life don’t appear to have. Why should I have to spend even more of my disposable income on literally just looking good while my husband spends his money on wing foiling with friends or playing golf, going out for meals or one of many other experiences that enrich his life and (shock horror) leave him with smile lines and little scars?
Me: That’s nice in theory but in reality, you’ll continue to be bothered by these features or flaws you could fix. You’re pretending that resisting these changes frees you from insecurity.
Also me: Fair point, but “fixing” a part of myself would only make me obsess over it even more. Make no mistake, if I tweaked my cheekbones or jawline, I’d be dangerous levels of thrilled to look more like the type of person I consider beautiful. The idea of effortlessly altering my face is so tempting that it makes me angry, nauseous and a little sad (it also has me debating myself, at length). However, this dream mistakenly frames self-esteem as a fixed goal when it’s really a mercurial state that adapts to new situations (or new faces) and seeks something new to obsess over.
This is especially true for permanent procedures like rhinoplasty or fillers. Botox, on the other hand, is temporary, meaning you’re constantly shelling out for top-ups to maintain a certain look, which sounds less like self-confidence and more like an expensive dependency. If I spend $350 on regular Botox because I’m insecure about forehead lines, I’m not “free” from insecurity but arguably more attentive to this particular insecurity than before; admiring my tight skin or monitoring when it’s time for more units.
Resisting alterations can free one from fixation or at least offer a better chance at deprioritising those perceived flaws versus investing time and money into perfecting them.
Me: You feel this way now but you’re only 27 years old! It’s easy to feel morally superior when you don’t have deep crow’s feet, sagging eyelids or a post-baby body no number of burpees can save.
Also me: I certainly don’t consider people who don’t get cosmetic work morally superior and absolutely don’t judge women who do; if anything I’m deeply envious of their perfect lips, slim noses and elegant cheekbones. Thanks to social media, the pressure to look younger or have a certain facial structure is also not reserved for a certain age group; we all get to feel the sting of inadequacy.
I’m a talented overthinker but no fortune teller. I may, one day, decide to ease that sting by booking a clinic appointment. A larger part of me hopes I learn to love my list of imperfections or, at the very least, stop caring quite so much.
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