You've been invited to.....

A couple of weeks ago, I read with great interest in the local section of our newspaper that despite rising gas prices, increased unemployment, declining home prices, and overall concern about the health of our economy, that there is one thing in the county that I live in that has not declined and yes, is in fact thriving and on the rise. And, it's not charitable giving. Oh no. This is so far from philanthropic. Do you know what it is? I'll give you a hint in the way of re-telling a story that happened to me on my birthday last fall:

And this, my friends, is a true story:

I dropped The Prince off at school school one day last October, and the minute he walked into the class he announced to everyone that today was his Mommy's birthday. When you are turning 4 it is a big deal...when you are turning 44, not so much. One of the mom's who I'm acquainted with immediately said "Happy Birthday" and gave me a hug. We then left the class, walked outside and she stopped me, looked left, then looked right as if to make sure no one was around or was listening and asked:

"Would you be interested in..."

(at this point I'm thinking she is going to ask about a play date, lunch, etc.)

Nope. She says "BOTOX?"

I'll repeat that for you, "Would you be interested in BOTOX?"

I was about to bust out laughing because she was dead serious, and my first thought was, really, who wants to hear that on the day they are officially in their mid forties, and secondly, I know I have laugh lines, but I don't think I am at the point of needing injections of artificial-I-don't-know-what yet.

At this point, I'm trying so hard not to laugh because I don't think she grasped the irony of asking me that on my birthday. So here's the conversation I had in my head: "Sad thoughts, think sad thoughts so you don't laugh, think sad thoughts so you don't laugh. Ohmygosh, Ohmygosh, I cannot believe she just asked me that." Still looking to her left and then to her right to make sure no one else was around and listening, she told me that she was having a BOTOX party at her house on Sunday! (You know Sunday morning, when I am usually being fed and taught the word of God.) And then as if she felt I needed more convincing, she told me it is "all the rage in L.A. according to the E! channel." Oh, she doesn't know me at all. That is so not a convincing argument for me. And what made her think I care about that stuff anyway? I don't. I mean I really don't. Then of course, because I can't control myself said,

"What are you gonna just shoot up right there in your living room? "

Yup, right there in her living room with the plastic surgeon kind-of-ex-boyfriend of her best friend. EX-BOYFRIEND? EX-BOYRFRIEND? You're kidding right. I can see the headline now:

"Plastic surgeon ex-boyfriend seeks revenge on ex-girlfriend by injecting five suburban housewives with diet coke and lemon at Botox party held in the suburbs. "

Still not being able to control myself, I ask "Is he a real plastic surgeon? "

She was adamant that "Oh yeah, oh yeah he's a doctor, board certified and everything."

It sounded like the whole thing was on the down-low because, don't you need things to be clean and sterile with one of those hospital beds and tools? And, it's kind of weird to think you can be snuggling up reading "Thomas the Tank Engine" with your kids on the couch one minute and getting injections of a little something something in the very same spot hours later. Kinda creepy if you ask me.

Then I kind of laughed and told her I wasn't into any of that as it just wasn't for me, but thanks for the offer anyway. (I think) Then she told me not to say anything to anyone. And, I didn't. Well, except to you all. But, you live in my laptop so that doesn't count. Right?

Ah yes friends, Botox parties and in-and-out boobie jobs are thriving here in my neck of the woods according to that article in the paper. I've been to Southern Living, Pampered Chef, Tupperware, Creative Memories and Silpada jewelry parties, but a BOTOX party is a whole other level of, of, of , I don't know what. For me personally, I'll just age the way I'm supposed to, well, with a teeny weeny, oh let's face it, ALOT of help from my color lady every 6-7 weeks.

So would you, wouldn't you, have you or "I'm not telling you"?