'Smile. Relax. Smile. Relax.'

It all started innocently enough, with a trip to the dermatologist last year for a routine checkup. I had heard a lot about Botox, and confessed my curiosity to the doctor. He assured me the injections would take only a second, and just a few moments after agreeing to it, my forehead was relaxing in a state of botulism bliss. A few days later I noticed a difference. I was hooked.

So in the spirit of intrepid journalism, I signed up for a recent "Brows & Botox'' promotional event at a Beverly Hills cosmetics store. I arrive fashionably late, only to find more than two dozen women sipping Perrier and nibbling finger sandwiches as they wait for their brows to be waxed into shape and their free Botox injections. Dr. Jessica Wu, a Harvard-trained cosmetic dermatologist, is discreetly injecting patrons in a corner.

The scene is jarring, sort of like finding a Clinique counter in a methadone clinic. But it's a shrewd marketing ploy. The salon's owner gets to peddle her cosmetics. And Wu has a chance to win converts to her "technique.'' The buzz is that Wu's gentle touch has earned her a celebrity following. She won't dish on her client list but says she makes regular calls to the sets of TV shows to touch up the cast (and crew). She even made house calls to three actresses before this year's Academy Awards to give them Botox shots in their armpits--it's supposed to help eliminate perspiration.

With my brows newly shaped into McDonald's arches, I'm ready. Atop a glass makeup case, Wu and her two medical assistants have set up gauze, Q-Tips and gloves, and a biohazard-disposal pail. I sign a consent form. Wu opens up two small vials, then hovers over me, needle in hand. "Smile. Relax. Smile. Relax,'' she instructs. Two or three faint pinches on each side of my eyes, and I'm done. That's it--no stinging, no soreness. She really does have a light touch--my two previous treatments had been a bit more painful--and she hands me a sheet with "postoperative instructions'' warning me not to rub the area for four hours. Not that it itches--you just don't want to smoosh the Botox into other parts of your face. (Days later you're not aware of any new sensations--or lack of them.)

The other women gather around me for a look. "You know, you should catch the corners of your mouth before they start to droop too much more,'' one says. Others are given similar advice and pep talks. We all try to encourage Abbe Hausner, 45, to take the plunge, but she remains wary: "I think for my first time, I'd rather do it in private.'' Everyone seems eager to share her story. "I'm Karen, and I've been doing it for five years between the eyebrows. I'd have a really wrinkled forehead if I didn't.'' I feel like I'm in a 12-step meeting for Botox users. Maybe that's next year.

© 2002