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This weekend I found myself sitting in a med spa, watching my 29-year-old sister get Botox for the first time with Wood\u2019s words ringing in my ears. The med spa was hosting one of their \u201ctox parties,\u201d with free consultations and Botox for just $10 per unit. While my sister checked in, I sat on the fuzzy white sofa, flipping through the glossy pamphlets displayed on the oblong coffee table. A mother with glass-smooth skin browsed shelves full of clinical-looking skin-care products in minimalist packaging as her two young daughters nibbled on green and white vial-shaped cookies. They\u2019d picked them up on the second floor, where the actual party was happening\u2014complete with delicate flash tattoos, ear piercings, a neon sign nestled in a wall of artificial ivy that declared, \u201cIt\u2019s GLOW Time.\u201d<\/p>\n

I\u2019d gone in thinking I\u2019d go for it myself, or at least consider a consultation. I\u2019d been interested in injectables for a while, after all. At first, I saw Botox as a possible solution to my recurring migraines, but I eventually became curious about what it could do for me aesthetically. I\u2019d watch self-described injectors on TikTok talk about the benefits of \u201cfacial balancing\u201d and bookmark before and after posts on Instagram. I wouldn\u2019t call it pressure, exactly, but the idea that Botox is just maintenance, like retinol or hair masks or pilates, has been slowly settling into my brain, especially now that I\u2019m in my 30s.<\/p>\n