Last night I finally got around to watching the season finale of Real Housewives of Miami.  Since I realized early on that the content of the show was not interesting enough to keep my attention fully, I have started a little private game in my head to keep things interesting.  I watch, hope, and pray for little moments of facial expression and when one comes along I giggle and keep count.  Silly, I know, but fun as hell.  A random eyebrow raising is apparent periodically in the one who crashed the gala and didn’t pay until forced.  I think her Botox is either wearing off or minimal and I think her name is Christy, but I could be wrong.  The art dealer girl can sometimes muster a smirk or two as well.  But the older blonde could not crinkle her forehead if you offered her billions.  My all-time favorite is Elsa, psychic mother of the newlywed one, who can barely talk because of all of her Botox and plastic surgery.  Don’t get me wrong, she is my FAVORITE character because without her random musings the show would be too boring to watch, but still she cannot move a facial muscle to save her life. 

Being that I myself am around the age where Botox becomes popular, I have thought about whether or not I would consider it.  It would be nice to get rid of that line that runs vertically between my eyebrows that is getting so deep I can hide snacks in there. 

Then I realized how much I depend on my facial expressions as a form of communication.  I am from Chicago and have been told by many that I have the most “Chicagoan” accent they have ever heard.  I don’t hear it myself but once a message I left on an answering machine was likened to the skit from SNL with the Super Fans and “Da Bears”.  Anyway, along with my Chicago dialect I like to use my face to express myself.  I will sometimes not even answer a question verbally and just use shrugs and facial expressions.  For example, the husband asks if I would like a Bologna sandwich and I “reply” with a chin tucked in towards my chest and a simple Elvis style icky lip raise that clearly indicates “Eeeew, no thanks.”  He gets it and so do most people, and I have not uttered a single word. 

If I did Botox, I would be limiting my non-verbal communication abilities to only eye rolls and shoulder shrugs and that is like asking someone to communicate verbally using only vowels.  Plus, I kind of like the luxury of being able to actually use my facial muscles.

So, for now, no Botox for this housewife, and only because my wrinkles do not yet outweigh my desire to make faces at people as a form of communication.