I couldn't believe my ears. I couldn't have written a more compelling ending to this story if I were a fiction writer, and honestly, if I were a fiction writer and had created this story, I would have rejected this ending. Too sappy. Too scripted. But the following is the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth:
Like I stated in "A Little Botox, Please! (Part 1)", we got very few complaints as the days turned to weeks which turned to months. Then one day...
Child P sat next to me at the dining room table working on a craft project. I was yapping with my son's girl friend seated across the table. Child P took advantage of a pause in our conversation interjecting with this random statement, "It sure is good to have my life back again [That got my attention. It's not often one hears an eleven year old child speaking about getting her life back.] now that I'm not watching so much TV."
If you could have seen my face, you would have whispered to your nearest friend, "Yep, she made that appointment for Botox. Poor thing! How long are her eyes going to be stuck in that upright position?" I was shocked--out of the mouth of babes once again.
I sent my son, Luke, a victory text. I needed to share the moment with the one who had sounded the battle cry. He won. We won. And an eleven year old child got her life back.
And Botox? I've got a face that moves with life. It tells a story only my face can tell. So Doc, you can keep your Botox. This momma's got all she needs.