My Botox mishaps tend to coincide with weddings. The first time was at my own nuptials, when a doctor targeted a small wrinkle in my top lip with toxin and unintentionally gave me a lip flip. That is when the muscle in your top lip can no longer contract, making your lip appear slightly fuller. It looked pretty good, to be honest, but a side effect was that my paralysed lip couldn’t purse or work a spoon, which was interesting when it came to kissing the groom and eating the cake.
The next was at a friend’s wedding, on the morning of which my first go at forehead baby Botox kicked in (it takes up to a week for this to happen, leaving you peering in mirrors for days to check if it’s working yet). I wondered where my eyelids had gone. It transpired I couldn’t lift my brows enough to reveal them, and the Botox hadn’t been so baby after all. I spent the day reassuring the happy couple that I was happy, too. For someone with an exceedingly mobile face, it made me feel mentally and physically hemmed in. It’s like your emotions are fighting with your face to get out. It’s hardly painful, but feels intrinsically wrong.