Bitten and not by the botox bog

I woke up at 4 a.m. to a horrible stinging sensation in my upper lip. Peering groggily in the bathroom mirror I watched the left half swelling up faster than I could say "Oh shit, please don't let me end up with a face like Melanie Griffiths." I stared for as long as it took for the left half of my upper lip to become so engorged it seemed to be dragging my face to the right. Ice cubes did nothing. Neither did vigorous squeezing. Out of options I watched powerlessly until the stinging subsided and went back to bed.

By morning my lip resembed a bad outcome of a Nip & Tuck procedure. Fortunately it's a national holiday today in Thailand so I don't have to go out into the world today. The swelling is gradually subsiding so I'll probably be "normal" by tomorrow.

I'd be lying to say I'd never nurtured thoughts about a wee injection of collagen or botox or whatever to perk up the no longer sharp edge of my lip line. Or the eyebrows and eyelids that are moving inexorably downward and turning my face above the nose into a fair copy of my mother's. The increasing flacidness of the below-nose portion isn't particularly felicitous either, especially first thing in the morning.

With that teensy bite, the botox bug brought me back to the reality of accepting reality. My body isn't 20 any more. Or 30. Or 40. Once again this fascinating and frustrating country has served up another practical lesson in the in the Buddhist concept of impermanence.

P.S. However not for a second am I gonna give up the idea that sleeping on a small curved wooden fold-up pillow will somooth out those neck sags!