I am almost 50, and I am confused about my face.
I’m confused because I think it looks… okay.
I think it looks older than it used to, because I am older than I used to be. I think it looks a bit tired, because I am a bit tired. It looks like it’s seen some sun. Like it’s done its share of laughing and crying and eating and drinking, of being out in the world, because it has.
Watch: Julia Morris on Botox and breast cancer. Post continues below.
Still. I think my almost-50 face is… okay.
But everywhere I look, I’m told that’s not possible.
Faces with lines don’t look okay.
Hooded eyes don’t look okay.
A looser jawline doesn’t look okay. Or deepening eye sockets, or a forehead with lines.
Freckles aren’t okay. Red bits aren’t okay. Crinkles and bumps and dints aren’t okay.
I know this because the women I see on the screens that surround me have done away with all that.
A choice has been made among the privileged to dispose of face texture if you possibly can. If you have the means, and the time, and the know-how.
But I haven’t. Not yet. And let’s be honest, it’s getting a bit late in the day to start now. When 22-year-olds of my acquaintance are “investing” in “preventative” fillers, I think it's fair to say that a ship has sailed, and my face is on it.
It’s a bit of a shock to find out that your face is radical.
That there’s a name for your approach to ageing (who knew you had an approach to ageing) - that it’s called “No-Bo”, short for no-Botox.