Wednesday, November 19, 2003
Tightly Wound: The Gift of Reality
Tightly Wound: The Gift of Reality
The Gift of Reality
I'm sitting at the stoplight this morning, waiting to make my left turn onto campus, idly sipping coffee and half-listening to the radio, when this commercial catches my ear:
"This season, give yourself the gift of Botox cosmetic. Before all the holiday get-togethers and parties. Botoxilin blah-blah-blah...Give yourself the gift of Botox cosmetic."
I almost missed my light. Yes folks, injectable paralytic bacteria is now being hyped as the perfect little accessory to go with your new strappy heels and party dress. You too can look like an escapee from Madame Tussaud's in all of your holiday photos! And you can spend all day on Christmas assuring your family and friends that yes, you do really like the gift, it's just that the facial muscles responsible for smiling have all been temporarily rendered immobile!
And did I mention that you're getting your face injected with Botulism? Just double checking, because for me that's sort of a deal breaker. It's your FACE. And you're deliberately injecting it with BOTULISM. See, no. It's called Oil of Olay, people, and as far as I know the side effects are a little bit of tingling, not needles jabbed into your head and four hours forced into an upright position so that the "toxin doesn't seep." When you whip out the word "seep" and use it in conjunction with MY FACE, little alarm bells go off. Same deal with the words "Botulism toxin," and "injected into."
Oh, and the fabulous paralyzed mannequin effect is only temporary, so in order to permanently look younger you have to repeat the procedure. A lot. And it's expensive! Whee! Sign me up, stat!
Listen to me. It's called AGING and we all do it. Use sunscreen. Moisturize. Lay off the cancer sticks and hydrate yourself. It's a helluva lot cheaper than having poison rammed into your head repeatedly. It's also a lot SANER than that, but hey! Let's not allow sanity to supersede vanity. This is America after all. Oh, and a footnote? No matter how many facelifts, botox treatments, peels, polishes, laser-finishes, sandblastings, and industrial strength shellackings you endure, you're still gonna end up looking like this. If you're lucky, that is.
Deal with it.
The Gift of Reality
I'm sitting at the stoplight this morning, waiting to make my left turn onto campus, idly sipping coffee and half-listening to the radio, when this commercial catches my ear:
"This season, give yourself the gift of Botox cosmetic. Before all the holiday get-togethers and parties. Botoxilin blah-blah-blah...Give yourself the gift of Botox cosmetic."
I almost missed my light. Yes folks, injectable paralytic bacteria is now being hyped as the perfect little accessory to go with your new strappy heels and party dress. You too can look like an escapee from Madame Tussaud's in all of your holiday photos! And you can spend all day on Christmas assuring your family and friends that yes, you do really like the gift, it's just that the facial muscles responsible for smiling have all been temporarily rendered immobile!
And did I mention that you're getting your face injected with Botulism? Just double checking, because for me that's sort of a deal breaker. It's your FACE. And you're deliberately injecting it with BOTULISM. See, no. It's called Oil of Olay, people, and as far as I know the side effects are a little bit of tingling, not needles jabbed into your head and four hours forced into an upright position so that the "toxin doesn't seep." When you whip out the word "seep" and use it in conjunction with MY FACE, little alarm bells go off. Same deal with the words "Botulism toxin," and "injected into."
Oh, and the fabulous paralyzed mannequin effect is only temporary, so in order to permanently look younger you have to repeat the procedure. A lot. And it's expensive! Whee! Sign me up, stat!
Listen to me. It's called AGING and we all do it. Use sunscreen. Moisturize. Lay off the cancer sticks and hydrate yourself. It's a helluva lot cheaper than having poison rammed into your head repeatedly. It's also a lot SANER than that, but hey! Let's not allow sanity to supersede vanity. This is America after all. Oh, and a footnote? No matter how many facelifts, botox treatments, peels, polishes, laser-finishes, sandblastings, and industrial strength shellackings you endure, you're still gonna end up looking like this. If you're lucky, that is.
Deal with it.
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