Many, many years ago, my photo used to be on the cover of each edition of a new Born to Shop book. The pix were taken by my dear friend, the famous Time-Life photographer Ian Cook, who travelled all over the world with me and while he is a photojournalist, and does not normally do portraits, he took my cover shots for the free trips.
Then one day, I will never forget it, Ian said 'Hey, knock it off, stop frowning!' Hmmm, but I wasn't frowning, I was giving it my best movie star smile. 'What's that big line between your eyes?' he asked. Uh-oh.
This was so long ago that no one had ever heard of botox. By the time we knew all about it, the Born to Shop covers evolved and I no longer had to worry about that line, or the hurt feelings I felt when Ian announced I was imperfect.
That is no longer the case.
Tonight we stopped in at one of those walk-in botox clinics that line the streets of Bangkok and I got shot up. First time.t's true, I have been a botox virgin up until tonight-- some 15 years after Ian first noticed the lines above my nose.
Sarah and I waited for about five minutes and then had our meetings with the doctor. The doctor told me it would take a week before I would see the results. I did not mention that I will be crossing the International Date Line in those few days, so I don't know if my face will fall back or spring ahead.
As a journalist, I have been a risk-taker for most of my career. I'm jsut lucky I never got 14 years of hard labor in Korea. In fact, giving birth to my son wasn't even hard labor. But the name of the doctor's office was the Porn Clinic (who could make this up?) and it was located in the PatPong hooker district. Frankly, I just couldn't pass by without at least asking a few questions.
Sarah asked most of the questions, such as 'are you a real doctor?'
We both signed up and paid with our credit cards. The doctor, a girl of about ten years of age, suggested that I erase my cares with fillers in the area around my mouth and, uh, jowls, but I just wanted to wipe out the memory of Ian's perky little British accent by erasing the two or three jagged lines between my eyes.
The cost? Just under $100 USD. The experience? Priceless.