I’VE been told, on more than one occasion, that I’m high maintenance.
Surely not!
Like most women of a certain age, and reasonable disposable income, there’s my regular six-weekly trip to the hairdresser for a cut and colour and occasional fortifying treatment. Yes, I get my nails done every couple of weeks. But, isn’t this commonplace these days? Goodness knows the nail salon was packed out on Thursday. I was feeling a bit guilty slipping away on my lunchbreak until another senior female staffer took a seat next to me, so I’m hardly special.
Then there’s my monthly pilgrimage to my wax specialist. You know . . . lip, brow and chin, etc, etc, etc. (Hi B. Please be kind to me today).
This is, as far as I’m concerned, more essential maintenance, like getting your car serviced, otherwise I’d look like a greying, dishevelled, gnarled fingered nuffy with a beard and moustache. Not a good look.
This upkeep sets me back about $1500 annually. Well, it could be double that, because I stopped doing the sums when I got to August.
Just to clarify, I haven’t counted the cost of daily moisturising, exfoliating, cosmetics and perfume nor hair care and personal hygiene products. Hey, we all use soap or a beauty bar that looks like soap, but costs twice as much.
High maintenance, in my book, is someone who has regular massages, facials, and pedicures, and who indulges in spray tans and has their teeth whitened professionally.
But, I could be wrong, because I met someone at the weekend who knows everything there is to know about high maintenance women.
Not because this stunning 40-something, mother-of-two is high maintenance herself, but because she is someone who specialises in doing the maintaining, on a grand scale.
We’re talking Botox and Restylane baby. You name it, she injects it. High-powered, toxic, age-defying drugs designed to slow the sands of time. She also does laser resurfacing treatments, but I just can’t go there - I get a little queasy just thinking about someone burning a layer of skin off their face.
At roughly $600 for a single jab of Botox, the doc appears to be making a very comfortable living making other women feel comfortable about living in the skin they’re in, even if they look like a stunned mullet after finding out their pet moggy was hit by a bus.
The beauty of Botox, at least from her point of view, is that the effects only last three months, so she has repeat business, guaranteed.
The results, as well as the prices, are staggering. A girlfriend of mine has her own Dr B. She swears by Botox and has been a regular user for the past four years.
She’s 47 soon, but her eyelids don’t look a day over 30. What she’s outlaid, so far, on holding back the years could have put one of her daughters through private school. But hey, it makes her happy.
I must admit, I’ve been tempted many times, particularly as the years begin to creep and the creases of my smile begin to turn southward. I simply can’t justify the expense and I have to admit, I’m a bit creeped out about being injected with a deadly, toxic substance.
Knowing my luck, my lips would be permanently frozen into some crazy upturned grin that would make even the late, great Heath Ledger’s portrayal of the Joker look like Mr Chips.
Restylane is a cocktail of hyaluronic acid and water. According to its makers, the hyaluronic acid is a tissue-friendly substance closely resembling the hyaluronic acid that occurs naturally in the body.
It plumps up the skin, instantly diminishing the appearance of lines and giving a smoother, softer look, or so the good doctor says. But anything that comes with a label “must be injected by a trained, medical practitioner’’ should make you think twice.
Women can’t get enough of these so-called minor cosmetic procedures, it seems, and have started shopping around for the best Botox bargains. My cousin’s partner is even toying with the idea of hosting a Botox party at her house. Tupperware is so passé.
Where will it end? With BotoxRus shopfronts in High Street, drive-thru franchises “would you like eyes with that’’, or maybe huge DIY warehouses with aisles of face fillers and plumping devices.
And, don’t get me started on the nip and tuck business.
We all need a bit of maintenance as we get older. Men too.
But there is a fine line - pardon the pun - between maintaining your looks and looking like a Myer mannequin after the Boxing Day sales.
- SUSAN MASTERS is the News Editor at The Advertiser.
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