Those Lines of Time

Those character lines, laugh lines, frown lines...lines of anger, or whatever you want to call them...are there looking back at you in sometimes unrecognizable ways. We say we want to be unchangeable, and part of me wonders if we can just be. The beauty of the creases in a lotus blossom are not as fresh and smooth as I noticed the angry lines that I felt somehow don't portray how I really feel inside. The brow that would furrow with my past life of verbal wranglings over policy, law, and determinations seemed to ask me if I needed this serious angry look anymore. I would rather have lines of laughter and joy imprinted rather than this hardened look that challenges those that would dare to battle me. I realized I had laid down my weapons and put those epic battles behind me. I had stared at two deep creases between my brow as though they were battle scars of deep thought.

And as if I had thought and place intersect, I happened to walk by Suibi Plastic Surgery Clinic, where I lingered. This was like dipping my toe into a pool where the water was extremely cold. No, I didn't just walk right in. I paced. I paced in such a contemplative way, because to me, aging is a part of life. I had an epic battle inside to confront my reasons for why I would entertain having any sort of bio-toxin to freeze my face, to rid myself from my expressive nature. Then there was the matter of the origins of those two lines and what they represented to me. Two crevices of moments in time of profound anger and rages...that no longer existed in my life. They hung there like reminders of a life that no longer served any purpose. I walked inside.

The receptionist did not speak a word of English, but did understand the universal language of one word, "Botox". I lifted my fringe, the camouflage I had been using on my forehead and pointed to the area that was right between my eyes. Her profuse nodding did not encourage me, more like the deep acknowledgement of a fatal flaw. I was quoted a price, and I nodded in agreement, and shown where I was to sit among the pillow laden seating.

I sat there in quiet thought, still pacing inside my brain as I waited for my consultation. I looked around at the use of circles in the office and the quiet little touches of perfection. The calm soothing music of Mozart played in the background, the light muted and neutrality of the colors, and the perfect faces of the staff flashed back at me.

One of the staff members ushered me into the doctor's office where we spoke. Her English was fair enough to discuss the crevices of anger that I wanted to battle with her useful needles. I succeeded in making her laugh, as I think it was wonderful that she did not talk about other areas that she could try to perfect for me...no, those crevices could be attacked and she recommended a course of action.

Back to an area where I waited, had pictures taken and my forehead numbed. 15 minutes later I was laying on my back having my botox virginity taken from me in Daegu, South Korea. While I waited for the numbing to be complete, I thought of an episode of The Twilight Zone that I saw as a child called "The Trade Ins", written by Rod Serling. Vividly it came into my mind, the story of a elderly couple in the future who went to a clinic to inquire about the cost of trading in their bodies. Fifteen minutes passed in a flash.

Three strategically placed injections to deaden the furrows of anger and yet not remove all manner of expression on my face. I still have wrinkles and do not possess the unnatural smoothness that seems too unreal to look at. I was that way when I was young. However, this act was more symbolic for me. I don't want to try to be someone else. I only want to have what is inside of me, be more apparent to the world. I am...just me.

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