It's not real...

Will the real Madonna please stand up?
From Defamer

Every time I read an article like this, I swear to myself I'm not going to let that happen to me. Women who get facial fillers and botox and collagen injections convince themselves they're looking younger because their faces blow up a bit and smooth out a wrinkle or two, but all that happens is they wind up looking like someone who's had expensive cosmetic procedures on their face.

And how sad is this?

A mother of three, who wants to be known only as "Jan", says she began regular Botox and filler treatments four years ago, when she turned 42.

They cost $3500 a year. Her husband doesn't know but she's upfront with other women who, she says, often say she looks younger [...].

"I'm self-conscious about the money side and don't like to rub it in. It is all relative to income and it's something I can afford."

She plans a facelift "in due course" but says: "I'll have to wait for my husband to go away on business."

So she has stuff done and not only hides it from her husband but her husband doesn't even notice when she has her face pumped full of crap. Must be a fantastic marriage.

I've said it to Gam often enough, but I'd like to make a public declaration that no matter how badly I age I'm not ever going to undergo anything more invasive than a gentle exfoliant and a decent moisturiser in an effort to look young. If I have to be a lesson to young girls that they should listen to their mothers and wear sunscreen on their faces when they leave the house, so be it.

It's not like I don't have a certain amount of vanity. A few months ago I finally got jack of having constant mild acne; at 24 I felt way too old for that shit, and while it had improved somewhat, I still had horrible hormonal flare-ups once a month. So after years of suffering my insecurities, Gam finally got me to ask our doctor what I could do. I'd already tried a mild version of the pill at the suggestion of another doctor; all I got from that were bad mood swings. Dr Maria suggested eryacne, an antibiotic gel, and and differin, a topical retinoid. They are only available on prescription and cost $30-something per tube, but they worked and boy was I thankful. My cousin Rach and my brother Richard both have bad skin like mine, and when I told Rach about these topical anti-acne treatments she sympathised, saying that her mother (like my own parents) had never suffered acne and so she was forever getting the useless "it's because you eat chocolate" advice. I'm so glad to be finally rid of it. But what with my bad skin and all I've had to go through with my teeth (nearly over, thank god), I've had enough of being insecure about my appearance to last me a lifetime. A wrinkle, unlike a pimple, causes no physical discomfort. A wrinkle, unlike my teeth until they're fixed, doesn't stop me from being able to bite into an apple. At worst my makeup might settle into a crease and look a little funny, but if it came down to a choice between having needles stuck in my face at a cost of thousands of dollars or just not wearing makeup, I'd choose not to wear makeup.

Thankfully I haven't had to think about what to do if I started finding grey hairs on my head, but given the genes on my Mum's side of the family I wouldn't be surprised if I had to cross that bridge soon. I stopped dying my hair after we visited Ghana because I was too ashamed to spend even $15 a month on home hair-dye after I'd met people getting by on a dollar or two a day. And then there's the thought of all the chemicals and crap that go into the stuff. It's hard to justify when I look at it from that point of view, even though changing hair colours can be a lot of fun. I think my Mum looks great at 50 with a full head of silver hair, but I'm not sure I can handle the in-between of salt-and-pepper (or, more likely in my case, brown-and-grey) for the two decades leading up to that point!

As far as women torturing themselves to 'look good' on their wedding day, I largely avoided falling into that trap: I went for a 'hair and makeup' trial, convinced I was too hopeless to do either my own hair or makeup, and came away convinced that at least I could do better than a makeup artist. I was already horrified at the potential expense but decided to go ahead with the hair, but if I were to do it over again I'd probably do the hair myself too, given that the hairstyle fell out within an hour or two. As far as fake tans, dieting, plastic surgery, manicure or other forms of self-abuse go, I was never interested. And in the end, if I'd showed up wearing jeans and a t-shirt and no makeup I would have had just as fantastic a time. But if you believe the bridal magazines, every single second of the day must be choreographed from beginning to end, starting a good 18 months or so prior to the wedding, and you need to spend a whole lot of money in order to look good enough to feel good about yourself on the day. The size of the industry devoted to making women feel bad about themselves so they can be convinced to buy products they're told will make them feel better about themselves is just enormous. It's so crazy.

I guess that's what scares me the most about seeing middle aged and older women still insecure about the way they look- the idea that someone could spend their whole lives trying to live up to something that isn't even real is really quite sad. While I'm actually pretty happy with myself and just figuring out where to draw the line, seeing people who have sprinted past it and are heading for a mirage on the horizon instead makes me feel quite a lot of antipathy towards whatever it is in our society to cause that to happen.

UPDATE: I just wanted to add that I hope Therese Rein tells all the wankers who 'helpfully' offered style tips and criticised her for wearing the same pair of shoes more than once to jump off a fucking cliff. Who are they to tell a successful, well-educated woman like her what to wear? And who says a woman can't be photographed wearing the same shoes twice in a row? I mean, Kate Moss has apparently been named best-dressed woman in the world and she's a skanky crack-ho who doesn't dress particularly well but for some reason the fashion sheeple love to fawn on her. Come on. Let substance prevail over the dictates of style for a change and let Therese wear whatever the hell she wants. At least she's not wearing what everyone else is wearing.