I was in New York for a work meeting last summer and tried to take a selfie in my hotel room when I noticed. There on my forehead were obvious lines. They felt like a problem that needed to be solved. Either I needed to stop moving my face like this, edit the picture or get work done. I scrolled through the 100+ selfies I’d taken, playing with the contrast to see if I could disguise the wrinkles, and found myself in this confronting moment, asking: do I feel brave enough to post a picture on Instagram with some lines on my forehead?
For a long time, I’ve scrutinised the faces of celebrities who set unrealistic beauty standards. But it didn’t mean much when this ideal was only seen on women such as the Kardashians, who exist in another realm. It was a fantasy, not my reality. But when one of my best friends announced she was getting filler – ‘Just on my top lip, to even things out’ – it shifted closer.
Now, more than half of my friends have had Botox or filler. I work in the beauty industry and here pretty much everyone I meet has had work done. It’s left me feeling betrayed and resentful, like I’m being left behind because, confusingly, I wish I dared do the same, and I’m jealous that they get to emerge, as I see it, more beautiful than me after each appointment. I’m terrified that I might be ageing while everyone around me stays forever young. And I worry I’ll be left at a disadvantage: in my circles, Botox is becoming a status symbol.
I haven’t had Botox, but the more friends announce their treatments or suddenly appear line-free, the more I find myself over-analysing parts of my face that I’ve never looked at previously. I’ve fixated on the lines forming and wanted to filter or edit my wrinkles, smile lines and eye creases. Mostly, these are lines essential to my expression of emotion – feelings of joy or anger, when I’m laughing or smiling. I’ve wondered if I should start toning myself down, restricting my movements. I’ve seen many videos online about how to prevent lines by taping your face, softening your frown or holding your mouth closed, but this feels like creating another strait-jacket of control. The age-old misogynistic idea that women are ‘too emotional’ had shifted and applied itself to my face.
I’ve booked consultations with aesthetic doctors but each time I’ve not turned up. Those treatments would be painful and go against everything I believe in about how women shouldn’t feel the need to cave to pressure – but was my self-loathing bigger? If I don’t get Botox, I worry that I’m resigning myself to a life of ugliness if I’m the only one who’s not getting things done. What does that mean for me? Will people lose respect for me? Will people stop listening to me? Beauty affords you a social currency. I should caveat this with the fact I’m aware that being white, blonde and blue-eyed means there’s a privilege attached to the way I look and it’s a lot easier for me than it is for others.
This struggle is felt by so many. Since writing my book, Pixel Flesh, about how toxic beauty culture harms women, I’ve had so many women message me saying they worry they can’t ‘compete’ when it comes to things like dating. It spans age groups: I’ve spoken to girls as young as eight who’ve told me, ‘I don’t go outside any more after school because I don’t want people to see my real face.’ I can’t count the number of women in their twenties who are starting baby Botox because they’ve been told it’s ‘preventative’. And so many women in their thirties and forties tell me they’re getting Botox for themselves as their next birthday present. One artist even told me she’s stopped posting online in order to preserve her younger self for longer.
What we stand to gain by staying young is a trade fraught with paradoxes. I’ve met so many women who feel this mounting pressure to freeze their features so that they can show up in the world as visible, valuable beings, while balancing how much they should be seen to be caring about such ‘trivial’ pursuits. If our beauty work is too overt, our efforts too obvious, we face ostracisation or disrespect.
I don’t blame my lack of self-confidence on any of my friends. It’s societal pressure caused by a toxic beauty industry that has led us here. It’s created a culture where women strive for ideals that can only be achieved through augmentation or editing. We live in a world where facial features literally come in and out of style: just look what Kylie Jenner did creating the lip filler trend en masse, only to get hers dissolved and inadvertently declare the trend over.
With as little judgement as possible, I think the best thing we can all do as women is resist, resist, resist. If every one of us decides to age naturally, we make it easier for each other. We’re so influential in each other’s lives.
I’ve resisted so far, but I’m in no way cured. I am learning to accept myself by remembering I should be a modelling comfort for other women, as they are for me. Because I feel my best self when I’m around those who exist in their natural beauty.
‘Pixel Flesh’ by Ellen Atlanta is out now