Will Botox Cure Chickenpox?

So fun fact……you can get chickenpox at 45.  I did.

I got a vaccine since I’ve never had chicken pox thinking that I was being smart…proactive….efficient.  I’ve got a four year old in my house.  He’s going to school.  They’re little carriers for germs.  Smart right?  Turns out….I’m an idiot.  A week to the day later….I got chicken pox.   No one else around me had them.  So there wasn’t secondary exposure (and if there is, then the little turd needs to present themselves ASAP).  I had, what I thought, was a spider bite on my arm.  It was a week after my vaccine shot.  I had already forgotten about the the injection location because…well LIFE…

The initial “spider bite” started small at first but later, like the Grinch’s heart, grew and Grew and GREW.  Turns out that it was ground zero for the plague.  I woke up two days later with a rash on my neck and one solitary mark on my temple.  I undressed to get in the shower and that’s when I saw it.  The bastards.

Five little chicken pox jumping on my chest.

One more popped up upon my…..you know what rhymes with chest.

Don’t make me spell it out.

I called my boss and said, “So funny story!  I may have the chicken pox, but I actually feel fine.”  He instructed me to get my ass to the doctor.  So I called my doctor.  Dr. Fabulous insisted that I come in because apparently he thought I was delusional or hallucinating or drunk at 7 AM or pulling his leg.  The only hitch was that he didn’t have an appointment until 5:30 at night.  So in I scoot thinking this is some sort of false positive type of affair.  He sat with me for over an hour stating that in his 26 years of practicing medicine, he’d never seen anything like this.  I first showed him the one on my head.  He wasn’t impressed.  I showed him the ones on my left arm.  He still wasn’t impressed.  I pulled up my shirt to show the now twenty that harbored there and he said, “Oh shit, you’ve got the chicken pox.”  Really?  Hmmm, interesting.  So he gave me some horrible concoction to fix this situation which basically rendered me more useless than normal.

During this particular recuperation I received an email from a swanky spa near me offering a BOGO for Botox.  As in if you brought a friend, they could get their Botox for nuttin.  For the record, I’ve been to this spa, I love this spa, I got my mama a gift certificate for this spa…I love them so much that they have literally wrapped my ass in a seaweed concoction and I didn’t even flinch.  That’s how much I love them.

But Botox?  Really?  A BOGO because YOLO which made me say to myself GTFO and STFU.

So I’m presented with the main question regarding this post?   What does Botox do?  It’s a derivative of the main toxin in Botulism and hey, that’s fun right?  I have a friend who posted an unfiltered and unaltered picture of herself on social media a week ago.  She is unequivocally stunning.  She has some lines or if you want to put a finer point on it, some character to her face.  She’s utterly stunning.  She’s lived.  She’s loved.  She’s lost parents.  She’s fought illness.  She’s aged and she is beyond gorgeous.  I’m at an age (staring down the barrel of 46) that I have a choice.  I can accept gravity and the after effect of stress, laughter, partying, child rearing and life in general or I can retaliate with surgery or injections.  I choose acceptance and I won’t even joke that it’s mainly because of a fear of needles.

I can’t say I was ever a great beauty.  I can’t say I really care.  I relied more on brains and humor and a stunning set of………wits.  I said WITS.

I don’t get plastic surgery.  I just don’t get it.  Maybe I was blessed with the self-confidence of Zeus, but unless there’s an accident or illness or other issue…

For vanity’s sake?  Perhaps it’s not for me to judge.  In all fairness I should probably end this here.  But I won’t.  We’re all beautiful, mainly in the form of acceptance of who we are.  Perhaps I’m a little introspective tonight  Perhaps I’m tired.  I know I’ve eaten about 3 glasses of Chardonnay.  It’s been a long frigging week.

And though I look in the mirror and see a tired woman, I also see a fighter.  Botox got nothing on my fire baby.  Nothing.  It would only quench the fire.  And that’s something I’ll never accept.

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The day we all realize the inherent beauty that wisdom holds, is the day vanity will recede.

 

 

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