Friday, July 8, 2011
Who Needs Collagen?
Hey kids, gather round, I want to share something here.
Turning back the ravishes of time is painful, expensive, and doesn't work. Oh yeah, you bright young things can laugh all you like, just wait and see, one day you too will wake up to wonder who dared to replace your face with that worn out mask of your mothers.
S'not nice getting saggier and baggier, in fact it's downright depressing. Well, that's my excuse. Anyways, I wasn't exactly out actively looking for the fountain of youth, was I? But if it's thrust out on a golden platter, who am I to refuse?
Admittedly in hindsight, perhaps I should have exercised more caution, especially considering the last time I fell foul of a beauty "freebie" in exchange for a full advertising "before and after" spread.
That was when my hairdressing salon bribed me to give them full Carte-Blanche with my hair, a regrettable enough experience, without the added injury of having to see it plastered all over the local weekly rag to every one's amusement. But you see, memory fades and hair grows back, I am a trusting soul at heart, not to mention the eternal optimist.
So when my dentist had me under the drill, (perhaps it was also under the influence of the Novocaine, who knows?) I naively found myself agreeing to play Guinea Pig to her giving me a free shot or two of Botox. All she wanted in return was for me to come back in a week or two's time to do the "after" shots for her portfolio. Although I guess you could've argued she was definitely cheating a lot - well, these before shots were hardly at my most flattering, she had me all numbed up and swollen in this over sized, frozen grimace, didn't she? But hell, I'm not proud, did I care?
Oh, come on now, we're talking a free couple of hundred quids worth of treatment here, are you telling me you wouldn't have grabbed it with both hands?
Sadly, most of the injections being aimed around my forehead and eyes, few had the benefit of the anesthetic, but hey, no gain without pain, eh? I laid back and suffered in the gallant name of beauty, taking all she had to give (and then some).
Telling me not to look in the mirror for the next couple of days she happily ushered me out, on the firm assurance the shots would need a little time to "settle" in first. So it was I exited her surgery as Quasimodo, eagerly hoping to soon return as Esmeralda.
Hmmmn. No fool like an old fool, is there?
She went through the motions, but I am pretty sure I never made it into her portfolio. Instead of lifting my brow, it had the very opposite effect, I walked around for over three months with a permanent scowl, deep, hooded sockets, and appearing to give every unfortunate I tripped across the evil eye. Animals and small children bolted in fright, I'd aged well over twenty years.
Hubby thought it hysterical.
I took this lesson to heart, and vowed to quit kidding myself - age is inevitable, unpalatable or not, no one stays young forever.
Or do they..??? (Insert mysterious smile.)
Something miraculous happened last night.
Why, if I weren't such an altruistic little soul, I might even be tempted to keep schtoom, and go on to market this discovery for my own fame and fortune (aw, who am I tryin' to kid? I can't keep a secret to save my life).
Mid-way through watching "Luther" on the telly, I got a severe case the "snibblies". The "snibblies", as I am sure you know, is when you are not at all hungry, but are still compelled to feed on something. Anything will do, it's just the motion of satisfying your taste-buds, isn't it? When the ad's came on, I went off for a rummage. The choice was sadly lacking, faced with either a bowl of muesli or one of the kids pouches of Sun-Capri orange juice, I opted for the latter.
Actually, it was rather nice.
I went back for a second one.
And a third.
"What the fuck..?""
Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think that's any greeting to give your wife when you turn to her for a goodnight kiss.
"What's your problem?" I found myself slurring through my recently strangely tingling lips.
"Are you okay?"
"Why shouldn't I be?" I asked, oddly buzzing and not in the least bit tired anymore.
"Go look in the mirror!"
Effortlessly sprinting out of bed, (and resisting the urge to take off for twenty laps round the garden, en-route) I did as bid.
Well, bugger me, what a sight for sore eyes! I've never had such luscious lips in my life before, even if I say it myself, they were nothing short of positively stunning - all plumped up and larger than life - I could hardly rip my eyes from the mirror. And the energy surge flowing through my veins made me want to go out and dance right through in to the wee small hours - wow, nothing short of positively electrified, I felt sparks bursting from my pores!
I settled instead for coming downstairs to write for a few hours, not returning until hubby came to drag me (loudly protesting) back up to bed, at around 4am.
So, there we have it.
Forget all those night creams, the collagen, or Botox, all we really need is a little squirt of this E-additive riddled orange juice to put the bloom back into our cheeks.
Well, of course I'm banning my kids from drinking that stuff, after all, what kind of a mother do you take me for? (it's far too good to waste on the likes of them).
I'm doubling my order of it on my next Tesco shop, and plan on hoarding it in a safe, locked place where only I can reach.. It's mine, all mine from here on out.. (Cue thunderbolt & evil cackle.)
Whey-hey, life is never short of little surprises, is it?