For a while now, I've been curious about this whole Botox fad. In fact, I am so curious that I'm thinking, in the interest of making myself a wiser person, I should go, get poked, and watch those wrinkles magically disappear as the nerves and whatnots behind those dings and dents become either inflamed or completely crippled as a result of a very selective and precise neurotoxin poisoning.
Unfortunately, I really don't feel comfortable having my face numbed to the point where I'm as capable of expressing human emotion as your garden-variety houseplant. In fact, when I'm angry, my face is supposed to get wrinkled, and that's a very good thing. It keeps people from saying stupid things to me (usually). For example, if I'm scowling and furious with snow piling up on my head, if it wasn't for the wrinkles, someone would inevitably come up to me and say "Hey! How about all this snow, huh?"
Trust me on this, people. A wrinkled face keeps me out of prison. After all, there's a damn good reason why rabid animals get all frothy at the mouth, and if they didn't, we'd really have some serious problems.
So, what to Botox if not my face?
Now, insofar as it would be pretty wild having my manly bits Botoxed, I think that would lead to a great many accidents as a result of a serious breakdown in communication between that brain and the one atop my shoulders. So, it's best to just leave things looking like a wrinkled old bag of plums, I guess.
So, that leaves two spots: My feet and my hands.
The feet would be kind of fun since I could walk around barefoot with the tootsies of a Geisha. They would be cute, delicate and fragile looking. I'd imagine that people would either want to avoid them (which is good), or stomp on them just to see if they really would shatter (which is bad).
And, that's the problem. There's just too much uncertainty in having one's feet Botoxed. So, that leaves the hands...
And, here is where Botox really, truly earns its keep. In fact, I think it would be absolutely worth all the trouble and hassle if only to just have my hands Botoxed and then go to a palm reader just to see that look upon her face as she tries to come to terms with what she's seeing.
"Your lifeline!"
"What about it?"
"You don't have one."
"Are you saying I don't have a life?"
Now, that would be my kind of fun. Botox the paws and go rattle some psychic's head.
Unfortunately, palm reading is a dying
Ah well... I guess I can always Botox the elbows if all else fails.
-DP
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Posted By Dan to The Wisdom of a Distracted Mind at 3/13/2008 12:05:00 PM
I think I'd botox my chin(s).
ReplyDeleteB.
Since the botulinum toxin is one of the most deadly on earth, I find the thought of having it injected into me anywhere is just too creepy. I DID get a chuckle out of the wrinkly crinkly bag of skin, though!
ReplyDeleteBeth
Holy shit. I was just having this same discussion in my head last night, I kid you knot. I was like, would it really make my HANDS look younger? Could I have the hands of an infant? Or would it just make it incredibly difficult to type? Never thought of the elbows, although I always felt those wrinkles were there to protect you from pain. You know, you're leaning on the damned thing for two hours watching the sci-fi channel and you look down and have the exact imprint of your couch there for the remainder of the week. But, you feel no pain.
ReplyDeleteJamie
Bag of plums? Um, never mind.
ReplyDeleteAnd here I thought you were actually going to get out an iron, yanno, the type that uses water and steam to press clothes with?
One thing I still appreciate about a former beau was that, in his interim between jobs, he'd iron my clothes for me. I don't iron my clothes, so wow, that was a treat. I wonder what he'd think if I told him that, years later, THAT's one of the top couple things I liked about him? lol