I have one word....plastics.

While wrestling with what I wanted to be when I grew up and enduring a multitude of wrong-for-me jobs, I discovered that there were other challenges in midlife. One of them was my changing face. I'm not sure exactly when I realized that I was showing the dreaded "signs of aging" but when I could no longer ignore them I panicked. Who WAS that woman in the mirror? Was there something wrong with my mirror? "Mirror, mirror on the wall, where is that cute, perky girl who was carded until she was 35?" "Beats me," replied my mirror. "it sure as hell isn't you."

Many years ago when my Mom turned 60 and was lamenting her age and facial challenges I confronted her. "Mom,get over it. Age gracefully. Stop panicking. You look great." I assured her that cosmetic surgery was not an option. She looked fabulous. And yet, here I was poking at my crumbling face and thinking and saying the same things she'd said. If she were here she would no doubt be reminding me of our former conversation. In that sense, I'm glad she's not here.



I have the advantage of living in a cold climate. While cold and refrigeration both help meat last longer they don't contribute much to faces. BUT, they do offer one saving grace - turtlenecks. You can wear turtlenecks from October through April and your neck issues are hidden. This is good. You can't wear a turtleneck in the summer but you can let your hair grow longer and bury a basketful of sagging skin in a curtain of hair. At least I could. But what about my face? What were those deepening lines on the sides of my mouth...and those little lines on my lips. Oh G-d I wish I'd never been a smoker!

Cosmetic surgery is not an option. I am a coward. No one is putting a scalpel to my face and no one is going to make me look like Mickey Rourke or Meg Ryan. I don't want to look like I'm riding in a car going 90 miles an hour with my face stretched and plastered to my skull by the wind. No sir. Not me. I'd figure out something else to do.

So I did. I told my husband that for our anniversary I wanted Restalyne. Restalyne is a facial filler that is injected into deep lines to plump them up. It's expensive - but no where near as expensive as surgical procedures. It lasts uo to six months. Think how happy I'd be for six months!! My husband is a good guy so I got the green flag.

I did everything right. I researched the best physicians, I read everything I could about the product, I scanned testimonials from men and women who had been "filled". It looked good. I did, however, fail to consider that not much was going well in my life and that maybe my life energy needed to get turned around before I did anything more. But, this was before I'd begun my spiritual quest so I didn't really consider my energy, my aura or even my damned bad luck.

I scheduled a consultation visit with a cosmetic physician. I was pumped. During the visit she and her nurse explained the procedure and all of my options. So far, so good. "Let's do it!" I cried. The nurse left the room to retrieve the numbing agent. She returned with several hypodermic needles full of a yellowish substance which turned out to be novocaine. This was my first red, no make that yellow, flag. Novocaine does not always work on me.

She injected me under my lip the same way a dentist would if he were filling a front tooth. We waited. And waited. I felt a little numb but not in the right place. She injected more. And more. And we waited. My heart was thumping (novocaine contains adrenaline) but my face was fine. It stayed fine. Nothing changed. the nurse was frantic. This had never happened before. (This should have been my next clue to stop) She left to get the doctor. The doctor was cool about it. She offered me other numbing agents but I declined noting that I already had about a gallon of novocaine under my lip and doubted that there was room for much more...not to dismiss the fact that my heart was on an adrenaline high like nothing I'd ever experienced.

Then bravely (or stupidly, you choose) I declared, "Go ahead and do it anyway. Inject the Restalyne without the anesthesia." She pursed her lips, looked directly into my eyes and said, "It will hurt. A lot."

Still brave and stupid I replied, "I don't care - the pain can't last forever. Just do it."

So she did.

Oh My God. Burning. Stinging, Searing pain. And that was just the first few minutes. It got worse when she hit my lips. Several times the doctor asked me if I wanted her to stop (Oh yea, that would be nice..I'd be lopsided) With tears streaming down my face and my hands permanently welded to the arms of the chair I persisted. "Keep going!" She did. The entire procedure took five or six minutes...in Biblical time it would have been seven days (it felt like seven days).

If you know anything about how nice it feels when something painful stops hurting, you can imagine my relief when the pain ended. Now I had red, lumpy smile lines and a swollen upper lip. They gave me an ice pack and sent me home.

Over the next few days, as the swelling subsided I saw a whole new me. "You look great!" said my husband (like he had a real choice to say anything else). My friends said I looked "rested".

I felt really hot. In five pain-wracked minutes ten years had faded away. What joy! I wondered (briefly) whether I could get away with wearing a mini-skirt?would I get carded again ?(well, maybe if I wore my turtleneck and gloves to hide my age spots).

Three weeks later, when gazing into my visage in my bathroom mirror I thought that maybe the now filled-in deep creases were coming back. This could not be. This product was supposed to last "up to six months" not up to three weeks. I spent the next few days checking and re-checking my face. And each look told the same story...my fill-up had fouled up. The stuff was disappearing. I was returning to my old face. By the beginning of week four there was no more doubt. I was fully me once again.

Frantically I called my Doctor and scheduled an appointment. I also called the Restalyne folks who were sympathetic but unmoved. "This can happen," said a man on the other end of the phone, "usually in less than 1% of the people." Well, I asked, what can you do about it???? Why don't you say that in your literature? "Well what you do is between you and your doctor." WHAT!!! No refund? No "I'm sorry"...nothing???? "This will be reported to the FDA as an adverse event," he said calmly. Adverse my ass - my little event cost $550 and it was gone.

I had no better success with my Doctor. She agreed the filler had flown...then discussed other products (more costly)I might use in the future. She even took my picture. No refund. No apology. Nothing.I took my deep laugh lines, tucked my tail between my legs, and went home.

The lesson here: Age gracefully. Accept your fate. Look at your Mom...that's your future. deal with it.