Kirsty's profile

Might as well face're addicted to Botox

Written by Kirsty Allison on Wednesday the 7th of July 2010

Might as well face it...Addicted to Botox


I keep my hood up
to protect my identity 
My problem is I think I am a celebrity
Crippled by heels & burnt by hair tongs
Shades on, my legs so long, it looks wrong
Baby I'm the same as Courtney Love & Lily Allen
With my Louis Vuitton bag & red soled Louboutin
I'm a Facebook fan obsessed by heroes
Poster stars pouting for zeros
I want to be the same, 
And if I can't have Kylie's fame
I can buy the her face
Her perfect halo, her pout & her grace
And I read in Hello!'s guide to secret places
That opposite Harrods one can buy A-list faces 
I sneak up the stairs of the celebrity clinic
The Botox police stand at the entrance, as cynics
The paps hurriedly snap up at the gate
As a puffed up famous forehead gets there late
The nurse makes me wait, By a burning fireplace
There's a room of freaks, plastic & fake
In the 80s they would have had a simple skin bake
The quick route to cancer, suicidal self-hatred on show
Never superficial enough or worth the front row
But now it appears even the most commonest woman
Arrives in this room, the queen of her kingdom
Reigning as far as her mirrored reflection
Beauty skin deep, stranger than fiction
I meet the Doctor, she's an old fashioned girl
One who sleeps in rollers for her hair to curl
I tell her my dreams, of looking the same
As Kylie or Madge, just pump me with fame
I sign the forms for many thousands of pounds, 
Deny responsibility, "I'm just bored with the frown”
And as I kick back on the dental style chair
I realise that I'm in a Nazi lair
There are swastikas painted all over the ceiling,
She's been hiding here since the war, I get the feeling
She's injecting me to homogenize. 
And soon not even the faintest surprise
Will show on my face as famous Barbies sit by my side
Perfect people, no need to hide
We're all the same here, Vacant expressions, pouts open wide
'It's Thermage this week darling', another confides
It's Botox addiction, united we stand
Here doctor, take another grand
Our hearts are encased by collagen
New race with minds forever frozen 
I live in this surgery 24 hours a day,
Knocking around Harvey Nichols for an hour of play
My song's now at number one, 'Zoom'
It was written by my friend from the waiting room
She left it to me when her lip popped out, 
Shortly followed by her marvelous pout
Her forehead pinged back
Beneath it were hooks and cables
And designer labels
Her head then melted, shocked by fresh air
And other than a pile of Myla underwear
All that remained of her was a pile of pills, 
Extra cils, and
that was woman with looks that could kill.