Everyone looks so surprised when I walk into the doctor’s office for my consultation.  And I’m pretty sure it’s their permanent expression, if you know what I mean.  Nudge.  Nudge.  Wink.  Wink.

You see, I have these pesky spider veins on my thighs that Reichen and Latham so graciously gave me while I was selflessly cooking their bodies in my belly and while I think the crushed capillaries are a perfect shade of purple, they just don’t go with anything in my closet.  So I’ve decided, they’ve gotta go, and they’ve gotta go now.

When I called the plastic surgeon a friend of my recommended, the receptionist who answered said because of a cancellation, I could come in immediately.  So I did.  I’ve never been to a plastic surgeon’s office before, so when I arrived and I took a look at all the women who worked there, I know I looked just as surprised as they did, except my expression wasn’t medically induced, if you know what I mean.  Nudge.  Nudge.  Wink.  Wink. 

It’s really, really, really weird when every. single. woman. you meet is all nipped and tucked, not to mention completely paralyzed from the nose up.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.  I am totally a plastic surgery supporter.  I’m so going to fight this whole horrible aging thing all the way, and if a botox here and a face lift there, here a botox, there a face lift, everywhere a botox, face lift makes my farm a more pretty place to live, this Old McDonald is all about it.  But you know when you go out with your friends, and you think they look amazing, and then you wonder if they’ve had any work done?  There’s no wondering at the plastic surgeon’s office.  None.  It’s all so Stepford Wives.

After the esthetician told me it would be no problem to make my veins vanish after a series of 6 lazer treatments, I thought, ‘I should ask her if she thinks I need botox.’  Big mistake.  Huge.

“Oh, you could totally use botox,’ she squealed while handing me a mirror and telling me to flex my face.  “See?  See all those wrinkles?  See them,”  she smiles while pointing them all out with a q-tip.

“Yeah, I see them,” I say sadly.

“Well, I think you need about 10 shots of botox in your forehead and above your eyes to make all your lines disappear,” she says a little too excitedly.  “That will run about $400.”

“Oh,” I say wishing she would have sugar coated it a bit better.  “But I’m sure I don’t need any of that filler stuff, right?”

“Actually, you coulduse a little filler,” she says after she orders me to stop flexing my face.  “See all those lines in your forehead?  Botox just keeps you from being able to make those lines, but the wrinkles are obviously still there.  We’ll just fill them in and that will make your forehead completely smooth.”

“Oh,”  I say while wondering if she really had to use the word ‘obviously’ to make her point.  “And how much does that cost?”

“It’s only $500 per syringe,” she smiles, but I could only tell because her mouth moved, not her forehead, if you know what I mean.  Wink.  Wink.  Nudge.  Nudge.

ONLY $500 PER SYRINGE?!?  So all together, it’s going to cost me $900 to smooth my forehead which will only last me about 4 to 6 months?  That’s a lot of money, honey.

I made an appointment for mid-July for my first laser treatment on my veins and the rest I’m going to think about. 

After all, I kind of enjoy the ability to act surprised when I’m actually surprised, if you know what I mean.  Wink.  Wink.  Nudge.  Nudge.