The Sting of Insecurity: A Story of Lip Fillers and Letting Go
It felt like a scorpion had crawled into my mouth and stung me from the inside. That sharp, searing pain was the price of reversing a decision made in a moment of vulnerability. I was there to dissolve the lip fillers I had gotten three months earlier, and the irony was not lost on me. I had gone in search of armor against the world’s scrutiny, and instead, I had found a new kind of pain.
The Pressure to Conform
We have always felt the pressure to look a certain way, but social media has turned up the volume. Every day, we are bombarded with images of flawless faces, curated angles, and full lips. Celebrities like Kylie Jenner became the spearhead of a trend, and soon, everyone wanted that same look. It became common to walk into a cosmetic surgeon’s office and ask for the filler that the stars admitted to using. We film each other and ourselves more than ever, and when you see yourself from angles you never knew existed, it is easy to discover flaws you never knew you had. If you are already insecure, that is a dangerous game.
My job is to make funny, relatable videos for the internet. But as a woman, you still get judged on your looks. The comments cut deep: “I’m so distracted by her lips.” It wears you down. You start to want some kind of armor to protect you from the negativity. For me, I thought fuller lips would be that armor. I thought they would make me feel more glamorous, help me fit in, and boost my confidence. So I made an appointment.
The Appointment That Went Wrong
I told the nurse exactly what I wanted: just a slightly fuller lower lip. I have an underbite, so my upper lip would project unnaturally if too much filler was put in there. But she did the opposite. She had this strange method, holding a cotton swab and injecting in places I didn’t ask for. I was getting nervous, but I didn’t speak up. I kept thinking, “She’s the expert.” When I looked in the mirror, I just hoped the swelling would go down. I didn’t like it. It wasn’t what I wanted.
Then the comments got worse. Instead of protecting me, the fillers made me a bigger target. I felt exposed. I had done this to myself, and now I was being attacked more than before. I felt like a complete idiot. I was annoyed that I hadn’t spoken up during the appointment, but when you get a bad haircut, you still say, “Yes, great, love it!” while it’s a disaster. It’s the same with fillers.
Finding a Way to Reverse It
Fortunately, there is a way to reverse lip fillers. Juvederm and other fillers are made of hyaluronic acid, and there is an enzyme called hyaluronidase that dissolves them. I made an appointment with a doctor I trusted, one who understood the goal. He immediately agreed with me: the fillers were too much. He wanted people to look at my eyes, my face, not at my lips and go, “Wow.” That’s exactly how I felt. In every photo, all I saw was my stupid mouth.
But the dissolving process was the most painful thing I have ever experienced. The needle was okay, but when the acid hit—I’ve never felt anything like that. The nurse tapped my shoulder, a distraction technique, but I felt like I was about to have an arm amputated without anesthetic. One prick and I thought, “I can live with half a lip. I’ll just be lopsided.” The doctor told me that this was actually the most peaceful procedure you can get in his office. I forgot to mention that it hurts when we reduce it. I was not prepared for that scorpion sting.
The Lesson Learned
After the swelling went down, I looked more like a pout than a sausage party. I felt like my normal self again. I hadn’t realized how unnatural the fillers felt, how much they affected my speech. It seems silly—it’s such a small thing—but when you live in your own body for years and it suddenly changes, it is alarming. And then it changes back, and you are pleasantly alarmed.
If you are considering lip fillers, my biggest piece of advice is this: find someone who does half syringes. You do not need a whole syringe of Juvederm in your lips. But the pressure is there—you buy a whole syringe, you don’t want to waste your money, so you feel you have to use it all. Don’t. Half a syringe is often enough.
I am not ruling out never getting anything done again. But if I do, I will come at it from a better perspective—not to portray something I think everyone else wants to see. I have learned that I should probably be more comfortable in my own skin. It is hard when you put yourself out there, but that is my responsibility. It is my choice to have this job. For now, I am going to leave my lips alone and just stick to lipstick.