I saw a gal the other day who was fronting a booth at a local convention – you know, one of those ones that features Tupperware next to homemade jewelry next to Christmas ornaments. A mini-mall carousel of merchants and artisans, except that this one had a self-beautification wing. There were dentists whitening teeth in reclining chairs and chiropractors crunching vertebrates into good posture next door. And smack in the middle is where I met this gal, clipboard in hand, ready to sign me up for botox, laser peels or even insty-injectable cheekbones.

She was young and smiley. Quick to promote the new eyelash serum she had used that offers new length and thickness. Or all of the easy fixes for wrinkles, age, sun and depression. She mentioned that she only worked these conventions to earn discounts for more procedures.

I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at the time, but I knew she looked different, and not quite a good different. More like…plastic.

Later that evening as I washed my face and readied for bed, I leaned into the mirror examining the splattering of freckles and laugh lines and other such sins. I wondered if I would ever consider a little nipping or tucking.

I once read an interview with Courteney Cox where she rejected the options of botox because it freezes muscles from natural movement and thereby eliminates creasing, but also inhibits full expression. She wondered how actors could really do their jobs if they didn’t have the full capacity to show doubt or anger or intrigue. And I think that is what looked ‘off’ about Clipboard Gal. Her face didn’t have wrinkles, but it also didn’t have any personality.

I’m not saying definitively that I wouldn’t iron out a couple years or sift out some sun damage if given the opportunity, but ironically, the girl trying to sell the procedures actually gave me a whole new appreciation for the au natural, naked face.

But if you are going to get a little trimming, smoothing, altering done, this would be my advice:

Always keep a say-it-like-it-is friend nearby to tell you when to stop. Seriously.

And think long and hard about making the kind of changes that affect whether not your kids look like you anymore. There’s a great beauty in ancestral uniqueness. That clefted chin Grandpa had or the strong jawline like Aunt Matilda. Seeing your own features take shape in the face of little Johnny or little Lucy is really special, so think twice before you trade it in for Nicole Kidman’s nose.

At the end of the day, facial creases aren’t going to make or break my relationships. Smooth skin won’t win me [true] friends or influence people [about anything that matters]. Whiter teeth and longer lashes can’t show love to the broken or compassion to the downtrodden. So regardless of where our personal boundaries fall on this, at the end of the day, we should all be willing to throw our hair up in a ponytail and really get our hands dirty in the lives of others.

Love is a much longer lasting injection.