On Friday I went to my dermatologist appointment and I was numbed, sliced and diced, cauterized, gooped up, bandaged up, and I'm a thing of beauty, I tell ya.
As the doctor went to open the door to leave, she turned, studied me for a moment and then asked: Have you ever had any injections?
And I thought: Well, rats, she thinks I need WORK.
Then I thought: Wait, she had to ASK if I have had injections. That means I look ok and she didn't know if it was because I had HAD work or because yay me I look ok without any work. (I most certainly have not had work; I'm a coward. Things can go wrong, y'all.)
I think that this is the truth of anti-aging procedures:
|From the New Yorker|
So, no thanks to any "work" or "injections."