To Fill or not to Fill

Here’s the diagnosis: loss of volume, not (regrettably) from the hips, but from the cheeks and “marionette” area. Portions of my face are not only wrinkling, but they are magically disappearing.

What now – undergo the pain and expense of a cosmetic procedure at this stage in my life? This is not necessarily the classic futile quest for eternal youth and beauty (at least I don’t think so). My aspirations are rather humble; mainly, I don’t want to look older than I am. (I also don’t want to look older than my mother – at 82, her skin is smooth as glass). And I don’t want to look older than my friends, to be the one looking across from them at lunch thinking: “Didn’t we used to be the same age?” To me, just figuring out what kind of cosmetic procedure I want seems as intimidating as ordering a gourmet meal off a menu written in a foreign language. And then there’s the pain and bruising, plus the need to use precious work vacation time to hide like an injured animal for days (perhaps weeks) after each treatment. Then there’s the cost: once every six to 12 months at around $750 a pop. If I keep it up for 10 years, that’s a $15,000+ investment in the infrastructure of my face.

I’ve become obsessed with looking at every woman and wondering: Did she lift, suck, peel, fill or Botox? The other day I was studying a woman sitting across from me. Her face was pleasingly full and unlined. I wasn’t sure if she had had work done or if this was just a happy side effect of being a little pudgy. Then it hit me – there are other ways to gain volume – other deliciously delightful ways. Fifteen-thousand dollars can buy lots of M&Ms.