We've made it pretty f*cking clear that we're vain! That's not really an uncommon trait in women these days, especially in those of us over 39 searching for the fountain of youth. Sure, we may feel 25 on the inside, but trust us, every line, wrinkle, stretch mark, and extra centimeter of skin is cause for extreme panic. Can we have everything we need to be totally cool and confident? F*ck no!!! We never seem to be happy with ourselves physically, no matter how beautiful we may be. Whose fault is this you ask?? Well...it's the other f*ckers that ruin it for us, by either one-upping us on the youth curve, having more money than we do, or enjoying the benefits of their filthy rich sugar daddies. We've tried every d*mn cream, gel, face tape, and holistic approach out there, and while the ads are quite convincing, they all f*cking suck. So, instead of wasting any more time or money on these bullsh*t remedies, we decided f*ck it, if the fountain of youth is in a syringe or knife, we just don't care!! We WANT it!! We know we look pretty good. But the amount of time we spent in the sun with baby oil covering our bodies (who the f*ck ever heard of SPF?), not to mention the amount of partying we did throughout our youth, has definitely taken its toll. It's time for us to face it , the competition is fierce and we don't like it.
Speaking as one of the BIBs, I personally fell for the frozen forehead craze last week. It kinda feels a bit like someone put paper mache on my head and forgot to remove it, but d*mn, it looks GOOD...for now!!! Not a line or wrinkle in sight. My forehead is as smooth as a baby's bottom...for now!!! Three months down the road, guess what? I've gotta go back for more. But like an addict, I'm already on the bandwagon. I've started a botox fund, and at the first sight of my forehead showing any expression, I'm banging down the doctor's door and begging her to shoot me up! Seriously, I don't care if it's the middle of the night.
We all know that too much of anything, even a good thing, can really mess you up. Will you promise me one thing b*tches? When I begin to look like a figure out of Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum, PLEASE plan an intervention, send me away, and treat me for my addiction. I know I can count on you, unless YOU'RE in the process of being botoxicated yourselves, then I'm totally f*cked!