Six years ago, I got Botox before my 20th high school reunion, and broke out in hives. I Googled Botox and learned that if you’ve had any kind of allergic reaction to it, you can never get it again. So I got Botox. I thought maybe I’d go into anaphylactic shock and die. I felt very clever outsmarting my life insurance suicide clause, and satisfied that Jax wouldn’t kick my cats out onto the street to fend for themselves or die.

I haven’t died. I’ve had no adverse reaction at all. (I walked home from the clinic then, a mile in jeans in summer. I think I just got too hot.) Now I’m looking forward to 6 months without scowl lines and hoping to look young enough for Adelaide in Guys & Dolls.

I audition tonight. I’m sick with nerves! I honestly don’t how I do this over and over again. Auditioning is HELL! I know I feel this way on opening night, too, so anxious I’m convinced backstage before my first entrance that I really will vomit this time. I never do. I still don’t know how I do this. I think maybe its getting harder, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just that I’ve built Adelaide up so high as my ultimate bucket list part, that this last-chance shot is really freaking my shit out.

What am I thinking? I can make a 4-month commitment and somehow hold my shit together long enough to do a show? What am I doing? I guess I’ll go back to my doctor and get on some goddamn meds. Goddammit.

I’m gonna do it. Whatever the outcome, I’ll feel proud and content that I tried as hard as I could. I’ve been taking [very expensive] voice lessons from my musical director from Avenue Q. (She’s not more costly than anyone else; Good instruction just takes money.) It was worth it, and I loved hanging out with her. I’m ready.

I’m terrified!

It’s good practice. I got this! I own this! Adelaide is my part to win!


Well, I got a call-back, but it was based solely on networking. I was in a show with the director. I’m glad that my work ethic and what I put onstage speak for me. I’ll take it! That said, it was not my best audition. I think I must have really psyched myself out. Grrr. It is disappointing, but I still have to count it as a win, because I showed up, goddammit! I’m barely breathing this week, so well done, Christie!

I’m not satisfied, and I’m not yet able to stop replaying everything I did wrong. It’s disheartening to have a bad showing, but it will pass. Historically, I’ve  done better at call-backs, so I look forward to playing with some characterizations and catching up with old chums from past shows. I’m not looking forward to the dance audition. I am excessively out of shape again, but this is a good way to start anew on clearing out the cobwebs and getting fit, sharp, and out of another bad funk.

I’ve quit smoking again. Except for one drunken binge night a week and a half ago, I’ve really only snuck the odd fag here and there. I feel good about that, and expect my skin to regain a healthy glow. So far, Botox is lightening the burden of years, and it has a couple of days yet to reach full effect. I love it! Now that I’m safely unallergic, it looks like I’ll be shelling out an easy $1000+ every year to maintain my youthful good looks.

(Don’t go to an aesthetician for a pick-me-up, btw. First thing she did was point out my age spots, formerly known as freckles, and instruct me to return for a laser light treatment, ha! I admit I’ve been thinking down those lines, so perhaps my $1000 yearly vanity budget will be… somewhat higher than that, even. 🙂 Hey, I don’t have kids to put in braces, college, or therapy. I do what I want.)

Things are looking up. I suppose that’s all they can do after such a painful week. I really try to hold off on falling all-the-way apart, but that was just awful. It really was just… awful. My whole world came down around my ears. I’m hearbroken, still.

Sometimes maturity is a choice to accept one’s wrinkling, or freeze it with toxins.
(I love Botox.)


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