Needled

I went to the dermatologist this week.

And I'll fess up. It was for botox. In that thick muscle right between the eyebrows that I've been knitting a lot lately.

Botox, short for botulinum toxin, works by preventing the nerves from releasing a chemical signal that tells the muscle to contract. Prevent the signal, and the muscle doesn't move. In large doses, and in cases of botulism from infection with the bacteria, clostridium botulinum, this can be fatal, due to paralysis of the breathing muscles.

The small dose injected into the glabellar region (that wrinkled place between the eyebrows) doesn't pose much risk....perhaps a transient drooping of the eyelids in rare instances. I wasn't corncerned. After all, as a neurophysiology fellow at the Medical College of Virginia, I performed such injections -- not for cosmesis, but for neuromuscular disorders. Furthermore, I'm not a first-timer on the receiving end either.

Even so, this was only my second shot in just over a year. Certainly not an addict's schedule; and probably a suboptimal schedule in my cosmetic dermatologist's eyes, since the effect is only expected to last three months or so. (In fact, the manufacturer offers a "frequent shooter" card, offering a discount to patients who come back for another injection within a few months.)

My first shot was a 40th birthday present to myself -- my mid-life crisis hitting me hard. It worked, but the results, as expected, were quite temporary. When it wore off, I decided I wasn't going back four times a year for something that was an indulgence, and definitely not necessary. So I didn't.

Until now.

Now it's not mid-life, but just life. Needling people and pressures have led to a lot of furrowing these days. I can't fight off the people or the pressure. So instead, I'm fighting time and emotion with a needle and a toxin. I'll have eight to twelve weeks of smoothness when I need it most.

And again, I know the effects will wear off. And I'll have to decide if I want to go back. And I probably won't...until the people, pressures, and furrows in my life rage another day.