Guest writer Jessie Gurunathan talks honestly about using Botox in her early 30s – and how she got ‘a taste for the tox’ by her late 30s, only to be told that it wasn’t helping in her case with the goal of anti-aging. She writes for Capsule about the pressure to stay looking young and why she quit Botox as she hit 40.
Firstly, I think it’s only fair that I preface what I’m about to divulge and admit that I’m a bit of a vain bitch. As in, I care about my physical appearance.
It’s funny because for the longest time I would have never in a million years openly made an admission like this.
Growing up, if someone called you vain it was an insult. It basically implied you were self-absorbed or full of yourself. Nowadays, it’s a lot more nuanced.
I think those negative connotations stemmed from societal expectation – particularly of women – that prioritise modesty and selflessness above all else, often leading to judgment directed at those who openly expressed pride in their appearance.
When I asked ChatGPT to describe a woman who admits they’re vain, the answer was surprisingly refreshing and something that I think reflects a cultural shift that’s happened in more recent years.
“A woman who openly admits her vanity is self-assured and takes pride in her appearance, often investing time and energy into her physical presentation.”
Okay, ChatGPT! I love this for us.
As such, I am no longer ashamed to admit that I care about my self-image and how I present myself to the world. In fact, I see it as a necessary part of my personal self-care journey. However, it’s all about balance, and once upon a time not so long ago, I was heading down a slippery slope that I call ‘My Frozen Era’.
I was first introduced to Botulinum toxin, more commonly known as Botox, when I was 30 years old to help address my TMJ Disorder and to help stop me from grinding my teeth in my sleep. It worked – now I had a taste for the tox and I wanted more.
From there I began to dabble and in my early to mid 30s, I’d started getting botox injections in my ’11’s’ (the lines between the brows) and along my forehead. This was sold to me as a “preventative” measure, described as treating wrinkles before they actually have a chance to begin forming. Genius, right?…
By the time I was in my late 30’s, I’d discovered new places where this magic toxin could be injected to supposedly help me look and feel my best. What started with my masseter muscles for my TMJ had soon spread to my forehead, my chin, my neck… yes, even my neck!
Never one to gatekeep, I was always open and transparent about it, sometimes I’d even film myself during appointments and share it with my online community. I was hooked and couldn’t ever imagine a world in which I didn’t get my twice yearly tox top-ups. Then I turned 40 and my Botox bubble burst.
As a treat, I booked myself in for a face sculpting, lymphatic massage treatment in Auckland with Olga from Face Up. She talked with me about my lifestyle, assessed my face and began to work her magic.
In a pivotal moment that changed everything, I heard the words, “Jessie, my dear, you are a sagger, not a wrinkler.” She proceeded to explain how many factors like ethnicity, bone structure and lifestyle make every face unique and that there is no one size fits all approach.
For the next hour whilst I lay there listening and learning, my whole approach to beauty and aging began to shift.
That appointment was 18 months ago, I’ve since completed another trip around the sun and it’s been about 21 months since I last had any botox injections. It’s been interesting to slowly thaw out of my frozen face era and discover a reflection looking back at me in the mirror with a full range of motion. If I’m angry, I can frown, if I’m surprised, I can actually raise my eyebrows.
I know it seems almost counter intuitive for a self proclaimed “vain bitch” like myself to quit botox at age 40, a time when the aging process literally decides to ramp up at Formula 1 level speeds. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I wasn’t nervous about what would happen when the last of the neurotoxins wore off in my face.
The thing is, whilst waiting for my face to thaw, I sort of went down a rabbit hole and developed a voracious appetite for any information, good or bad, about the long term effects of Botox. I loved the effectiveness of Botox. I loved that it’s this “minimally-invasive” cosmetic procedure that can practically freeze the hands of time.
However, I’ve learnt there’s a fine line between getting a few subtle “tweaks” and going overboard with something that is essentially causing temporary muscle paralysis in the injected area. Botox works by blocking nerve signals to the muscle, preventing it from contracting.
Whilst I was so preoccupied with preventing fine lines and wrinkles from forming, it never occurred to me that as we age, our facial muscles are naturally weakening. I’m convinced that, in my case, all the years I was getting Botox in my masseter muscles led to atrophy or my jaw muscles shrinking and causing my lower face to lose definition and to start jowling much sooner than mother nature and my genetics intended.
This discovery was horrifying to me and left me wishing that I hadn’t bought into this whole idea that it’s “better to start young.” I think the fact that we’re seeing an increase in conversations around Gen Z apparently looking older than their millennial counterparts may be a direct correlation to the normalisation of the “preventative botox” narrative.
Statistics show more people are starting their foray into cosmetic injectables like botox in their late teens and early twenties which is wild to me and quite frankly, scary. Don’t get me wrong, as a self-proclaimed beauty enthusiast (don’t forget ‘vain bitch’), I love staying on top of the latest trends and advancements within the aesthetic beauty space.
However, I think the concept of “preventative botox” is slightly misleading when you actually discover the effects that long-term repeated use can potentially have on your personal facial anatomy.
Do I regret giving up Botox? No, I really thought I would, but honestly, so far I’m enjoying the fact that after years of confusion, when I’m angry or annoyed at my partner, he can actually tell now thanks to my new talent: frowning 😉
I’ve actually discovered some really incredible treatments and at home hacks that I’ve been trialling all through 2024, so stay tuned because you bet I’ll be sharing them.
Would I get Botox again? Maybe. But for now, I’m ok with my frowny face!