Totally off-piste - I've done it! I've had my number 11, scored like twin Grand Canyons down between my eyebrows, stunned into submission.
I went to the dentist two weeks ago - yes, the dentist; figured that if anyone will know about facial anatomy it will be a dentist , rather than one of those orange, frozen-faced, charcoaled-eyebrowed, artificial mannequin effigies with thick nails tipped white at the ends (or Heaven forbid, sparkly talons with gaudy schmutz glittered onto them - no offence to any orange people, but there are so many round here) one finds swanning about in beauty parlours (that dates me!) flicking their ironed hair over their ironed front-bits to their heads (the word 'face' implies at least some semblance of a conscious being).
I am a professional frowner. I remember my mother keeping on saying to me, from when I was very young, "Don't frown, you'll get wrinkles," which was a bit rich since she was one of the major sources of the frowning in the first place. So to say I had frown lines is like saying the Great Rift Valley is a bit of a dike. The deep gouges in my skin were only enhanced by being cradled by the fat duvet folds of muscles causing them, which had been pumped (and firmed) like a bodybuilder's biceps over the years from persistent clenching. Unlike my buttocks.
So I've just got back from my two-week check-up, with a tiny bit of a top-up for the hulking muscle to the left of my nose-bridge, that refuses to just die! It hasn't made me look younger - wasn't after that. What I was after was to stop looking so effing miserable/bad tempered/ angry/ p****d off and an all-round grumpy old bat.
It's worked. I still look like an older bat, but I look less annoyed (which beautifully hides the fact that, as a rule, I'm fecking - I can say fecking, can't I - angry virtually ALL of the time). But more than that, what is interesting is that it seems to be working on a kind of biofeedback loop. Because I can't frown - I feel less ... how shall I say ... irritated with stuff. And odder still, a bit more confident. And I think, because I don't look like I'm going to bite their heads off, waitresses and shop assistants and other people one meets in a casual way seem to respond in a lighter manner too. Hmmm...
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Schenks
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Schenks, I too am fed up with my lines/wrinkles, but I have a cunning plan! I take my glasses off, then I can't see the wrinkles! I've often wondered about Botox, but am too chicken to have it done, so good on you!
You painted quite a picture with your descriptions of the people around you! I did giggle while reading it!
I'm sorry to say, every word is true. Love the idea of taking off your glasses - I'd be tempted to insist that everyone took theirs off instead if I'd thought about it!!
Ha ha haaa! Well done Schenks ! I don't have this done any more. because I'm..err more rounded, I haven't a wrinkle in sight ( encouragement to stay in present state, scared I will frighten small children and ponies if I lose weight ).
You did remind me of a time I went to see my doctor Botox and there was a self proclaimed very experienced nurse there. So figuring that she knew what she was doing because my doctor allowed her in locum, I submitted. Oooh sweetie darling that might bruise, she said after one jab. Paid up and off I went. Got some funny looks in Bluewater, an hour or so later...wondered if my hairpiece was askew and eventually nipped to the loo whereupon it became evident that I had a black eye - a real shiner ! Had to do the walk of shame back to the car ! The law of sod it was winter so I didn't have my sunnies with me....
On the other hand...a friend lost loads of weight after a gastric band, then had cheek implants. Putting me off for life, she explained 'I could feel the scrape (of the needle full of filler) against my cheekbone...' Eeeew
Hi, chapesses - just been snoozing; I think the fact that I lay there and had my forehead injected, which felt like I had microscopic bubble wrap just under the skin being stabbed and popped, knocked me out a bit. Talk about rounded, Rapunzel, what is worrying me is that as I lose the weight, the double chin is doing something rather perturbing. A central type of groove down from my chin along its length towards where my neck is hiding seems to be slowly emerging. If it carries on this way I'm going to look like a more southerly feature of my anatomy has either migrated northwards, or my face will be so smooth from botoxing it'll look as though the southerly anatomical feature has been dragged up under my chin from too many facelifts. But surely people would know that if that happened, I'd have a sparse, rather greying goatee, wouldn't they? (Actually, just checked that feature for accuracy and the above should read 'I'd have a balding, totally grey pair of rabbit's feet slung under my chin'. Sigh. No amount of botox is going to fix that. Why doesn't someone invent intimate mascara for those ... very rare ... moments of exposure?) Anyone else got a pudenda for a choker?
Qed, Rapunzel. As for a black eye I guess the people at Bluewater would be quite used to seeing women with them, eh? Or maybe they'd've thought you were some slightly balding slapper from near where I live, up for the day. Not that you intrinsically look like a slapper. Or northern. Or balding (the hairpiece got me thinking). And why no sunnies? Surely the sun shines all the time down there (geographically) as it does up here in Lancashire?
Talk away, pink... as long as I can eavesdrop.
And thanks again, girls, for your encouragement. It won't go to my head - too numb just now!
Hahahah! Actually, it is bl**dy hard work. Er .. do you know what flyball is? The racing of dogs over hurdles to collect a ball from a trigger-box and race back again, in relays, against the clock?
But these are the top of the divisions, so picture a more motley bunch of dogs with, say, baldy blokes that look like they are chewing wasps, or with fat cracks peeping slyly from slipping waistbands, or women with ar**s big enough to sling a saddle on, running like mobile water beds with their dogs up to the start (me) or tripping over the bl**dy dog who uses their feet as a springboard and falling flat on their face (me) although I am cushioned since my ... b***s are like barrage balloons, screaming hysterically at the dog to "Go, Wisley, Go!" (me) then having to turn with a 'b'doing' back away from the start to a) get the dog to race back with the ball and b) get out of the way of the next person who is lined up to release their dog in the relay whilst c) trying to look nonchalant as they struggle to get their breath (me) whilst trying to pull the waistband of the trousers back over their belly because it's rolled down with all the bending and running (!).
That's flyball. (The ones at Crufts are flyball Nazis.)
I have the same problems with frown lines between my eyebrows. They look (and feel) like I could do with a large tub of polyfilla to disguise the problem. I might not like the sanding down afterwards though.
This post has had me in stitches laughing this morning. Schenks you must write a book, or at the very least a blog, where we can all follow your exploits! The flyball description was a total hoot. I too have nasty frown lines, but I'm too scared to have Botox. So many toxins already floating around my body. I will keep an eye out for Rapunzel in Bluewater too! Thank you ladies for beginning my day with a very big smile. 😊😉😋😀😃
For your truly encouraging comments I do thank you, ladies. Or women, if you prefer and/or are strictly p.c. Or men, if indeed you are male, in which case I hope I haven't offended ... unless you are gay men, in which case you might like to be one of the girls ... unless I'm being very un-p.c. .... oh, god. Still giddy, it seems ...
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