You booked the consult because you finally decided to stop just looking at your jaw in the visor mirror and do something about it. The med-spa was clean and kind. The nurse was reassuring. And then she handed you the quote for your lower face, and you took it out to the car, and you sat there in the parking lot longer than you meant to.
Because the number on the page was not really the number. The number was the number times four, because it wears off, and you would be back in three or four months, and again after that. It was the number plus the areas you did not price yet. It was a standing line item in your life, renewing forever, attached to a needle.
You have done this exact arithmetic before, just later at night. You have started doing the math on Botox and then closed the tab. You have read the price lists after everyone else in the house was asleep and closed the tab then too. Not because you gave up. Because every time you got to the total, something in you said: that is a lot of money, forever, for a needle, and I am still not sure I even want the result.