In a Sunday Times article [read original article here], Caitlin Moran talks about being "Botox shamed" The paperback of More Than a Woman is out on July 8. Following between six months and a year after the publication of the initial hardback, the paperback allows the author to plunge into a mental state she is never far from, to be honest – flicking through the shiny new paperback for 30 seconds, face melting with horror, before lying on the floor, wailing, “Oh my God, why did I write that? How could I even think it? How is it possible that the person I was, a mere nine months ago, is so radically different to the person I am now? How am I now going to embark on a live tour (info below, please come, we’ve anti-bac’d everything and the bars are open) to discuss all my Firmly Held Beliefs, when I have now cheerfully watched many of them slip from my open hands. What am I playing at? What is my long game here?”
Don’t get me wrong – I still stand by a good, say, 220 pages of More Than a Woman. All the stuff about feminism in middle age; caring for ageing parents; helping children with mental illness; the necessity of a dog; the need for a Women’s Union; and the terrible hammer blow that wine starts delivering you, past the age of 40. I’m still firm on all that.
These, however, are the things I’ve Changed My Mind About between hardback and paperback, so help me God:
................
2. Botox. The chapter about me getting Botox was one of the more controversial, with several commentators “being sad” a feminist could admit to having had it. I wanted to be honest about having Botox, because I am wired to loudly and cheerfully confess things other people feel they should keep secret – and, as someone whose job involves meeting lots of “fresh-faced” celebrities, I know they’re all keeping it secret. They’re terrified of, well, getting the reception I did when I admitted it. They are scared of being Botox-shamed.
However, since I wrote about how enjoyably efficacious Botox is, I’ve started to feel increasingly… not arsed about it any more. Watching the Friends reunion tipped me over the edge: the women who had had no injectable interventions – Lisa Kudrow and, particularly, writer Marta Kauffman – just looked, to my personal aesthetic standards, which is all this comes down to, better. I liked every sag and wrinkle. There’s something quite odd about seeing what are unmistakably “an older woman’s eyes” in a younger woman’s face: it gives the appearance of an immortal child-god who’s seen civilisations rise and then crumble, condemned to witness everything and yet never feel the sweet release of death. And while that’s a strong look, it’s not necessarily the look I’m going for.
