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| Doppelganger shreddies and banana. |
Sometimes I peer at my forehead wrinkles with the same sort of resignation that I imagine overcame King Cnut as the sea lapped about his ankles and he realised that no amount of wishful thinking was going to turn that tide around. Occasionally I convince myself that by being a little less gullible, I will slow the ravages of time (I only have wrinkles of astonishment: those lines you get on your forehead when you make a "wooooaaaah" face....). That said, I fully intend to go with nature rather than looking like the unholy apparition my friend Susie and I saw on the idiot box this evening.
There is something entirely unnerving about a person whose eyebrows don't move. This woman was toe-curlingly lifted and filled. Susie even suggested that with surgery gone so wrong, she probably ought not ever leave her house again.
