Getting better, thank you

If I were inclined to fret about such things, then having one child turning 13 next month and the other starting high school next fall, I’d be feeling downright old by now. As it is, I’ve become accustomed to this spring rolling over the ages.

Their birthdays used to bother me a lot more than my own. I am fine with 43, and now I am fine with 14 and almost-13-going-on-17.

I would prefer, though, that the nice plastic surgery practice that used to house the only woman I trust to cut my hair – I assume this is how they got my address – stop sending me special offers for Botox.

“New EXCLUSIVE Botox Cosmetic Reward Program,” says the purple-trimmed postcard with the dreamy-eyed woman with tousled hair. “Botox Cosmetic Patients will receive a $25 REWARD for each Botox Cosmetic Injection.”

I don’t care what other people choose for themselves. Myself, I see under the Botox Cosmetic logo at the top the reminder “Botulinum Toxin Type A” and it doesn’t matter how safe this has been proven, I can’t have poisons injected into my forehead.

Also, as an English major, I have philosophical problems with their rampant capitalization. Perhaps the next postcard will be returned with little red marks on it. Better that than my face.

This post originally appeared on, the online home of the Midland (MI) Daily News. Republished with permission.

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