I got to thinking about how good Mr. B manages to look these days. I am sure he has a whole team to work on him, drugs like a NASCAR pit crew. I was racking my brain as to how I could emulate all this good grooming, and it hit me: botox! I already work out, have a more than competent hairstylist, and I’d like to think I’m not a terrible slouch in the fashion department. But I am starting to wrinkle a bit, and that one stubborn wrinkle between my eyes really bugs me.

This idea got my home dermatology juices flowing, so I looked up how to make botox. You really can find anything on the internet. It turns out it’s mostly denatured alcohol, salt, and egg white. You can approximate the paralytic effect of the toxin with pyrethrin, which is a common pesticide ingredient! Thus began the bathroom chemistry. It looked pretty gross, but I dabbed some on with a cotton ball and waited a few minutes. It burned like a sonofabitch for a bit, but eventually the whole area went numb! Unfortunately there was no discernable visual change, so I figured you really do have to inject it, it’s not going to get through to the muscle otherwise.

I have a syringe that I scammed off my diabetic pal. I use it to refill my one nice fountain pen, and I figured “if that moron can inject herself every single day, surely I can master this.” I spent the rest of the afternoon practicing on an orange, with an Allure Magazine spread on botox for reference. Not too hard really. I braced my elbow on the toothbrush holder in the bathroom for steadiness and gave the wrinkle a poke. And… it hurt. A lot. The end result is a giant weeping sore. Bugger. I don’t think I’ll be going out this weekend, unless Mr. H makes me go to a doctor. I am half-tempted to post a picture and get everyone’s best amateur medical evaluations. So far I’ve just been spritzing on tea tree oil, like every fifteen minutes.

-xxoo