It finally happened—my Botox got botched.
My left eyebrow dropped so far that I can literally see the skin of my upper lid out of the corner of my eye. The good news is I will only look like a Basset Hound until it wears off in about three months. But all the injectables and age-fighting tools we have out there are a bit of a Pandora’s Box. It can only go so far before it catches up with you or distorts you so much you end up looking like some kind of Marvel Comic version of yourself. Let’s be honest: We’ve all seen her walking down Mill Street after yoga, wandering down Mill Street in her perfectly coordinated athleisure worn with cowboy boots, her face so plump it looks almost like it’s been filled with air.
As I approach my mid-50s, I find myself talking with friends a lot about “how much is too much?”
It’s easy to understand the expectation to maintain flawlessness into late middle age when I see celebrities my age and older, women like Nicole Kidman, 57, Demi Moore 60, and J Lo, 55 whose faces are not only frozen in time but looked buffed out and shiny, like a patent leather shoe. The price tag for the routine medical grade care required to achieve kind of ageless beauty likely runs into tens of thousands of dollars in maintenance every month. Yes, this is a rich woman’s game.
That’s one of the reasons the standard for fitness and beauty are so high here in Aspen and the Roaring Fork Valley, simply because so many people can afford the high price tag of ageless beauty. What is the ultimate luxury if not the time and money to invest in yourself?
As soon as I begin to feel any kind of self-confidence or pride in how I look for my age, there are six women lined up on their mats next to me (always in the front row) who are also in their 50s and look 10 times fitter, 10 pounds thinner and 10 years younger than I do. There are times I have noticed the years, and the pounds, were suddenly erased — as if overnight. Of course they look great. Years, decades even, erased. Clock turned back.
I’ve also noticed everyone suddenly is losing weight. Not just a few pounds here and there but significant weight loss that is transformative. This frustrates me because of how hard it has always been to get those results, if not impossible, despite my drastic efforts.
Not long ago, I was so exhausted by the rigors required of my workout routine and the daily torture of trying to lose weight myself that I began to think about going on Ozempic. Why should I have to kill myself to coerce my body into a size and shape it really doesn’t want to be when I can just take the magic shot and be done with it? How fun would that be, to be thin? Not just thinner, but as thin as I’d always dreamed of?
Well. I learned it’s not so easy. The nurse who did my consultation informed me Ozempic can have many unpleasant side effects, such as nausea and constipation that could easily be remedied with ginger gummies and MiraLAX. But it sounded eerily reminiscent of the first trimester of pregnancy. She suggested I wait until after my brother’s wedding to start the medication if I wanted to enjoy myself, which suggested this medication would not be pleasant. She also told me they have over 200 patients who are currently on this drug, which explains a lot.
I was told it would take at least nine weeks for the weight to come off (at $100 per week), and several weeks to maintain. In fact, many friends who have tried Ozempic told me that as soon as they came off the medication, they gained the weight right back.
Yes, I want to be and look my best. I want to stay young, healthy and fit for Levi, who reminds me of the need for this almost daily when he launches off a piece of furniture and tackles me, wrapping his long, skinny limbs around my neck and waist. I’d surely break in half if I didn’t train for that — or at the very least, throw my back out.
After the summer Olympics, I had an epiphany. I watched the gymnasts and recognized myself in these petite, powerful athletes, in their short, muscular build with thick waists and strong legs, and I realized that’s my body type. Sure, I can achieve my ideal look if I go to extremes, but it never lasts. My body will always return to its set point, and sometimes, due to the amount of pressure I put on myself, a few pounds more.
That’s when it hit me. My end game isn’t to lose 10 pounds by Thanksgiving or to try a different filler or to save up for laser facials. It’s two little words that have escaped me most my life — self-acceptance.
