Baby Botox, Beauty, and Beyond: Rethinking the Pursuit of Perfection
Dear Readers,
Lately, I’ve been spending more time on TikTok and have found myself engaging in discussions about people, particularly women, getting cosmetic procedures. While I’ve never previously given this topic much thought, I have had a chance to really think deeply about this over the course of my endless scrolling.
I come to this discussion with unique qualifications as someone who has done writing for the beauty industry. I have done a wide range of writing for everything from serums to Botox and even PRPs. Because of this, I understand what a lot of brands like to include and push. I have done brand writing, magazine writing, and advertorials (ads masked as editorials). And thus, I have taken part in perpetuating cosmetic culture.
With all my background, I firmly believe in a person’s right to choose what they do, so long as it doesn’t harm anyone or themselves. My reflections here are not critiques of any individuals. Rather, they are observations and the deeper questions that have surfaced during my TikTok scrolls.
For years, social media has been criticized for promoting unrealistic and unhealthy beauty standards. The constant pursuit of perfection and instant gratification—a gift of our consumer-driven society—encourages people to chase ideals seen in others, hoping these will bring completeness and happiness. With advancements in cosmetic technology and greater accessibility, it's no surprise that these procedures have become more prevalent.
In the U.S., cosmetic procedures have surged. Between 2000 and 2020, Botox use rose by 759%, and soft tissue fillers increased by 274%. From 2020 to 2023, procedures grew by 40%, with a global increase of 40% in the same period as well. Botox and fillers remain popular, with countries like Brazil and South Korea joining the U.S. in high rates of cosmetic work. Overall, from 2000 to 2024, global cosmetic procedures have increased by 200%, with rhinoplasty, liposuction, Brazilian butt lifts, and breast augmentation also seeing rises. [International Society of Plastic Surgeons; American Society of Plastic Surgeons; National Laser Institute; helped by ChatGPT.] For more stats, read here.
In fact, this number steadily rises every single year, with more procedures done in 2023 than in 2022, and predictions of even higher numbers expected at the end of 2024. The acceptance of cosmetic procedures as a part of beauty culture has grown, with non-invasive work like Botox now considered self-care. Increased transparency has reduced the traditional stigma associated with cosmetic work. Yet, I struggle to fully embrace this evolving cosmetic culture.
While these procedures are more accessible, beauty standards continue to reinforce systems of patriarchy, white supremacy, and class divisions. Cosmetics tend to exacerbate these systems.
At a deeper level, I question why so many people feel the need to change their appearance. Are these procedures a form of healing or harm?
There’s a general sentiment that as long as public figures are transparent about their cosmetic enhancements, it is okay. I understand this perspective, particularly given the pressure on public figures to maintain their appearance. Looking a certain way can be tied to their careers and livelihoods. But what concerns me is the language surrounding empowerment. We hear countless testimonials of people claiming how surgery, Botox, or fillers have made them feel confident and whole.
But this idea that cosmetic procedures are a means of empowerment is false and insidious. They may help people feel more confident, but only because they align more closely with societal expectations of beauty. In my view, this isn’t empowerment; it’s conformity. True empowerment comes from breaking free from societal expectations, not submitting to them. In fact, the pressure to conform in itself proves that this is a form of disenfranchisement. It's important not to blame individuals for seeking better lives, but we must also acknowledge that these “better lives” are only available because they now fit into pre-existing standards.
Take rhinoplasty, for instance. It is one of the most common cosmetic surgeries, and in countries like Iran and Mexico, it’s something that is “gifted” to young women when they come of age. Setting aside cases of medical necessity, what is rhinoplasty really accomplishing for most people?
Similarly, skin-whitening creams in Asia are criticized as reminders of colonialism and classism. Why is rhinoplasty—aiming for Eurocentric nose shapes—viewed differently? Both practices reflect proximity to whiteness and colonial beauty standards.
If skin-lightening creams are disempowering, how can invasive surgeries to conform to Eurocentric standards be considered empowering?
I also take issue with the fact that most cosmetic enhancements target women. The International Society of Plastic Surgeons estimates that close to 86% of procedures globally are performed on women. Women all over the world continue to grapple with the pressure to maintain standards and look beautiful. For women, beauty can mean visibility, access, and acceptance. In our society, the prevalence of Botox and fillers can be attributed to the obsession with youth. This is expected primarily from women, and is deeply rooted in misogyny.
The problem, in fact, is so pervasive, that women as young as 22 are now getting what we call “Baby Botox,” also known as preventative Botox. The fear of growing old and forming wrinkles is now plaguing women who are still several years away from getting them. These can reinforce ideas ageism and the shame associated with aging. To be afraid of aging when we haven’t even fully grown up is particularly disturbing. But this pervasive mentality shapes much of what women experience – starting at alarmingly young ages.
On an individual level, cosmetic procedures undoubtedly improve self-esteem, but do they genuinely empower us? While waxing my legs makes me feel polished, it doesn’t equate to empowerment. True empowerment involves reclaiming power, not aligning with societal standards (after spending time, money, and energy to achieve it). When we chase acceptance, we may feel included, but we aren’t truly empowered.
The debate of choice arises. People have the right to alter their bodies if it addresses insecurities, but how much of this choice is influenced by societal pressure? How have our beauty perceptions been distorted by reinforced ideals? Is it truly a choice then?
There’s also the matter of access. As the demand for these procedures rises, so too does the cost of maintaining them. Beauty has always been tied to class, and the more exclusive these enhancements become, the more they reinforce socio-economic divides. The beauty industry thrives on exclusivity and exploitation, selling the illusion of empowerment while perpetuating systems of patriarchy and white supremacy. It must be noted that these have existed throughout human history in various forms. The problem is that pre-existing standards are not really going away, and new ones keep popping up. It is this cycle that keeps making us buy more, spend more, and get more work done — and we still somehow end up feeling bad about ourselves.
I will never judge someone, especially a woman, for opting for cosmetic procedures. It would be hypocritical given my own adherence to certain beauty rituals. But as we participate in this system, we must recognize that we are also feeding into the cycle that quantifies and categorizes beauty. And in doing so, we uphold the very systems that marginalize us.
The question now that comes to mind is: Who bears responsibility for this? In many ways, we all do but our motivations are valid. The media and the beauty industry certainly hold a significant share of the blame, as their motives are driven by profit and maintaining structures of power.
It is disheartening because our faces are a reflection of our history, our lineage. I look like my grandmother, whom I never met. Every time I glance in the mirror, I see glimpses of the woman she might have been. It gives me comfort. It must certainly give my father comfort when he can see his long deceased mother in his little girl. I see my mother’s nose when I scrunch mine, and my father’s eyes when I open mine wide. As much as I appreciate it now, I know I would appreciate it more when I can no longer see their faces every day. If I altered my face, would I lose this connection? I wonder if others feel this way when they contemplate changing their appearance. And if they don’t, where does it stop? When do we become enough just as we are?
This issue highlights a broader problem: a hierarchical beauty structure that dictates attractiveness and values conformity. The cost of fitting in is as high as not fitting in, emotionally and economically. I wonder if these questions resonate with you as much as they do with me.
And if they do, I would love to hear more.
Yours truly,