Wrinkles and Fine China

Navigating the landscapes of love and loss - while staying wrinkle-free.

Content warning: This post discusses pet loss.

A few weeks ago, I came across two comments on an Instagram reel about Botox.

The first one was from a woman in her early 20s. She said she didn’t need Botox and didn’t think she ever would, because when she was growing up, her mom would smack her on the forehead whenever she was frowning or furrowing her brow. Over time, she said, she’d learned not to make the kind of facial expressions that cause wrinkles.

I was dumbstruck by this comment, and then saw one directly below it, also from a girl in her 20s. She echoed the same sentiment, saying that while her mom hadn’t taken the same approach, she’d decided on her own that her best chance of avoiding wrinkles (and thus, Botox) was to simply not make any facial expressions at all. None.

The ultimate goal here, I suppose, was a blank slate. No crow’s feet — my favorite wrinkle, those gorgeous little crinkles around the eyes. No “11s” to mark life’s frustrations or forehead lines to trace worry’s footsteps. No smile lines, either.

Putting the whole issue of unrealistic beauty standards aside, choosing to go through life so tightly controlled, with such a deliberately expressionless face, seems like a steep price to pay to be wrinkle-free when you’re older.

Imagine how much restraint it takes to emote in such a muted fashion; allowing a few controlled tears instead of anguished sobs. Small, brief smiles instead of those wide, helpless giggle fits that make your face hurt and your belly ache (but also create laugh lines, I suppose).

Living like that feels a lot like how our grandparents used to keep the good china stored carefully away for special occasions and saved all their nicest clothing for a day that never quite came. Letting all the best things languish in drawers so they wouldn’t get chipped or stained or lost or broken.

They were forgotten instead. Unused. Wasted.

Is that really any better?