Stiff Competition

Everyone knows Botox. It’s a treatment derived from the bacterium that causes botulism, and it paralyses the muscles in your face. People swear by it, but it also has a habit of making them look a bit weird, like a mannequin, or any of the Britain’s Got Talent judges. And this is what happened to me. A week after I had the treatment (seven injections in my forehead, which took about five minutes), I spent a few days abroad. When the Botox kicked in, I was jet-lagged. I glanced at the mirror expecting to see the crumpled mattress I usually see whenever I’m tired, red-eyed and furious at the world. Instead, I looked strangely smooth. Too smooth. I looked like a possessed Victorian doll.

It has settled down since, but I still can’t frown properly. The Botox makes the corners of my eyebrows ping up, like a poster for an end-of-the-pier stage magician whose career has just been halted by #Metoo allegations. I prefer treatments that simply aim to restore what was previously there. Botox added something new. It wasn’t for me.

Still, just because a frozen forehead wasn’t quite the effect I was after, that didn’t mean I was ready to rule out the cold treatment altogether. I’d heard of a procedure called