When did it become OK to get Botox at 25?
We want women to act their age, but not look it. When are we just enough?
At what age should a woman start having Botox? According to Superdrug, 25. The high-street pharmacy this week announced that it will be offering inhouse cosmetic procedures to anyone that age and over for a snip, from £99.
Twenty-five? I know those first years in work, after your carefree university days, can be stressful – but surely they’re not bad enough to warrant the sticking of needles into a prematurely haggard face.
Fast approaching 35 myself, it presumably means I’m already a decade late in stopping my own features from crumbling off a cliff. Ten naive years of laughing, crying, frowning and raising my eyebrows – which I was, at least, still able to do when I read about Superdrug’s venture.
Really, can there be any clearer sign that we are fostering a body dysmorphia crisis in Britain? The statistics speak for themselves: the YMCA recently found that 62 per cent of 15- to 16-year-olds feel pressure on them to look “perfect”. We are really, truly screwed up when it comes to ageing – even if our faces aren’t.
I’m a realist. Of course, I understand why Superdrug is offering this service for a third of the price of a Harley Street clinic. Botox is big business; around 100,000 injections are carried out in Britain a year, with non-surgical cosmetic treatments generating more than £2.75 billion annually. Why wouldn’t they want a slice of that pie? And yes, OK, we’re crying out for a positive story on the high street – it’s just that this isn’t it. As the main sponsor of Love
Island, there can be little doubt that Superdrug is targeting us millennials; my generation is one that increasingly views itself through an Instagram filter.
The latest series saw adverts for nose jobs, breast enlargements and tummy tucks aired during the breaks, something for which ITV apologised last month after health organisations accused it of exploiting viewers’ insecurities.
A Yougov survey in conjunction with campaign group Level Up found that 40 per cent of women who watched the ITV reality show (the majority aged between 16 and 35) felt more self-conscious about their body image afterwards, with 11 per cent considering lip fillers; 8 per cent a boob job; and 7 per cent contemplating Botox.
The whole thing has echoes of a controlling boyfriend who makes you feel bad about your appearance, then – once your selfesteem has taken a knock – dangles the possibility of cheap cosmetic treatment under your (presumably too big or wonky) nose.
I’m not anti-botox per se, though I would never have it. I’m antibotox aged 25 and available as easily as buying your toothpaste. It is not a beauty treatment on a par with getting your eyebrows threaded or having a manicure. It’s a medical treatment that carries risks.
Superdrug has been quick to point out that procedures will be handled by “nurse practitioners trained to the highest standards”. But this is kind of missing the point. The UK already has some of the most relaxed rules in Europe when it comes to non-surgical cosmetic treatments and large parts of the industry remain unregulated.
While Botox can only legally be carried out by a doctor, nurse or dentist (or under the supervision of one), fillers can be administered by just about anyone. I know I’d want to have a hell of a lot more certainty around the whole thing before I parted with even £99.
Yes, I do believe in a woman’s right to choose – especially when it comes to her body. And I hate the idea of treatments being elitist; only available to those who can afford them and allowing a dangerous backstreet industry to flourish. But, if I’m guilty of double standards, it’s because we all are. We prize youthfulness above all else, but are quick to damn women who have obviously had work done (Love
Island’s Megan Barton-hanson, with her £25,000 of procedures, became this year’s villain).
On the other hand, we are told we should let our faces age as nature intended, like slowly deflating balloons (see also: “but you look so much better without make-up”). Yet we’re trapped in a relentless cycle of pressuring women to stay looking young, then – when they make an effort to do just that – shaming them for being vain. We want women to act their age, but not look it. There are two stark choices: do nothing (the horror) or look like someone who’s had Botox (the waxen horror).
At what point are we enough? We demand that Madonna, who turned 60 this week, age gracefully; we want 50-year-olds to look
30; but 25-year-olds can’t look 25.
Growing old is a privilege, as those of us who have lost someone much too young know well. Each line, each wrinkle is a testament to a life lived. That should be celebrated, not held up as evidence that we’ve somehow failed. Our attitude to ageing is the most toxic thing of all.