A family dinner that cannot ever just be a family dinner

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It doesn’t seem to matter who it is in my family, but everyone does something that truly, deeply drives me crazy. It reminds me of that Leo Tolstoy quote that you always see when it comes to families that was the first line of Anna Karenina: “All happy families are alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” Dysfunctions stems from a unique mix of human flaws, generational patterns, and unhealed wounds.

My aunt, my dad’s older brother’s wife, is currently in town, and she asked if we could get together while she was in New York. Of course I said yes, and several weeks ago, I asked her to come over for dinner this Sunday. She confirmed, and that was that. Well, that was not over, because out of nowhere, she asks if instead of dinner at my place this Sunday that I go down to Manhattan Chinatown to meet her for dim sum with Chris and Kaia. I told her that wouldn’t be possible because of Kaia’s pre-scheduled extra-curricular activities. She then texts to see if Saturday dim sum would work; I replied back and said we already made plans.

I was getting more and more irritated with each response given we had already confirmed dinner at my place weeks in advance, and suddenly, she just wanted to change it. I know why she wants to change it: my aunt has this really frustrating habit of constantly inviting her random Jehovah’s Witnesses friends to almost all of our family dinners. It doesn’t matter if it’s just her son and family and me or all of the cousins and my parents, but she feels this urgent need to invite at least one to FOUR non-family people to any family meal. They are not part of our family, and they are people I will see once and completely forget about. Why does she constantly do this all the time? Even when I have explicitly asked her in the past when meeting for lunch in New York if it could just be us, lo and behold, she shows up with her New Jersey based friend I cannot stand called M, or one or two other random people I will have nothing to talk about with. M is a terrible person; she is a free loader. She makes sweeping, racist generalizations about groups of people she knows little to nothing about. And perhaps worst of all, M once explicitly said that “something was not right in the head” with Ed just years before he died. I truly wanted to punch her face in. And even after I confronted my aunt about how inappropriate and hurtful those comments were, she brushed me off, saying that M didn’t mean it that way and that I shouldn’t take it too seriously. My aunt has a true penchant for always ignoring serious issues and living a seemingly shallow life with no deep conversations ever possible. I told her I didn’t want her coming to any of our meals again. But of course, she ignored me and invited her anyway once against my wishes. We barely talked at that meal; I was PISSED. Part of the reason I wanted her to come over for dinner is to thwart any possibility of some random person showing up at my table because of her incessant “outside” invites.

So lo and behold, my aunt finally agrees over text to come for dinner at 5pm this Sunday. But the story’s not over because she has to text back: “Can I bring M with me, she wants to see Kaia.”

It’s like she’s deaf or suffering from amnesia that I strongly dislike this person. I simply responded back, “No, she is not invited. I have told you that I dislike her.” And I left it at that.

In the end, if she chooses not to come because of this, I truly don’t care. I’ve tried to be amenable and the “middle man” in too many of my family situations, and this is not a battle that I really feel strongly about. The level of delusion here is just beyond ridiculous. I do not want disrespectful, ignorant people in my house, and I deserve to invite only who I want to my house.

Donating whole blood for the first time

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The first time I tried to donate blood was at a blood drive on my college campus, so sometime between 2004 and 2008. I stopped by the tent and asked if I could donate blood. They asked me what my blood type was, and I responded that I didn’t know (frankly, I still don’t even know today because your healthcare providers cannot tell you without charging you out of pocket for that knowledge. Isn’t that insane?!). They told me that I needed to know my blood type to donate blood. This didn’t make any sense to me, as how many people actually know their blood type (and at college age?!), so I didn’t think much of it and walked away.

Then I met Chris’s brother, who frequently donated whole blood and now plasma. He has talked about it a number of times with me and posts about doing it on Instagram. His active blood donation made me reconsider it. But for some reason, it still wasn’t enough to actually get me on a blood donation website to really look into it.

So finally, I was reading the news last week, which said that the American Red cross declared a rare national blood supply crisis as donations hit a four-year summer low. The most urgent need is for those with a blood type O positive or O negative, but they really want all blood donations to increase. Given I have zero idea what my blood type is, I figured that maybe this was the final wakeup call to finally get my butt into a blood donation center. I am a healthy, physically active 40-year-old woman. They must need my blood, right?! So I looked up New York Blood Center, made my appointment for this afternoon, and went.

I’m not really sure what took me so long to do this — likely lack of prioritizing and just laziness. But regardless, I finally did it! I went in, filled out a digital questionnaire, then got called into a room so they could clear me for the blood donation. They took my temperature, blood pressure, and pricked my finger to measure my iron level. I cleared all three.

Then, they brought me to a very comfortable adjustable recliner chair and sat me down. They told me to expect that the whole blood draw would take anywhere from 5-20 minutes depending on how healthy and hydrated I was. And after the first sharp prick, it all seemed like any other blood draw I’d gotten… just that the needle was stuck in there longer. While hooked up, they also put a continuous blood pressure monitor on you to ensure you aren’t about to pass out. And as the blood gets drawn, this interesting little digital device called a Hemaflow scale that has a seesaw-like attachment moves back and forth, which serves as an electronic scale and mixer. The Hemaflow scale gently rocks the blood bag back and forth to thoroughly mix the fresh blood with an anticoagulant solution, which prevents clots and ensures accurate volume measurement.

Time flew really quickly — I was connected for just under five minutes when the machine beeped. The assistant looked at the measurement: I had donated 511ml of whole blood! That was much faster than I anticipated! They asked me to sit for fifteen minutes for monitoring to ensure I felt okay and wasn’t dizzy. Then to ensure my hydration, they offered me my choice of apple, orange, or cranberry juice (I chose the third option and saved some sips for Pookster at pickup). Finally as I left to go, they gave me instructions for what to do in the next day (no strenuous exercise for 24 hours, eat iron-rich foods), and let me know I could login to my portal in 2-3 days to check my blood type (YES, FINALLY!). They also said I could take as many snacks in the food area at the front to fuel myself on the way out. I grabbed two packets of cashews.

They told me I can donate whole blood every two months. But after I consulted with my therapist, aka ChatGPT Pro, I was advised that as a physically active, petite, menstruating woman that to donate whole blood on this schedule was absolutely not recommended, as it could severely deplete my iron stores. So it said that at most, I could schedule to donate whole blood twice a year. Though if my blood type matches needs, I could consider platelet or plasma donation, but that would require a bigger time investment — as in, 2-3 hours each visit. So, not a five-minute blood draw. I guess I will wait and see what my blood type is and go from there.

Now, I can finally check off “blood donation” from my list of things to do before I die. The next question, though, is how often will I continue doing this, and what variations (plasma?) might I consider in the future depending on my blood type?

Mufasa, our new robo vacuum-mop

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Chris and I don’t really see eye to eye on cleaning. And when I say that, what I really mean is that my slightly impossible standard of cleanliness can pretty much never be met. And it doesn’t help when said husband doesn’t consider things dirty unless they look dirty. Years ago when I was trying to get him to commit to cleaning more, I suggested that he vacuum and mop the floors of the apartment every month. He completely balked at this and refused. So, we settled on every other month, which I was never happy with. Lots of spot / area cleaning had to be done, especially in the kitchen and around Kaia’s eating area (the inevitably little person messes!). Within days of mopping, the floors always felt sticky to me once again. It’s a huge reason I prefer wearing slippers; the slippers prevent my feet from knowing how dirty the floor beneath me is.

So when I saw Chris’s parent’s robo-vacuum, which they named Modi (“we have to put Modi to work!” his mom said), working their house back in December, I was intrigued. I was even more intrigued when they told me it actually had a mop function. The vacuum was one thing, but a combined vacuum mop would be a total game changer. I asked ChatGPT Pro to research the best options for us here given our living situation — in a NYC 2-bedroom apartment with two adults and a 4-year-old — and it gave me this suggestion that also had its own wood cleaner. Amazon Prime Day came in June, and we bought this thing. And Chris decided to name it Mufasa, after the son he never had. He also told Kaia that this was her little brother. She now calls him “Mufasi!” She also enjoys watching him in action. Given how much it cost, I told Chris that we better be running it at least every week as a vacuum with water, and every other week with the proper wood cleaner!

After cooking today, I used one of the pre-set programs to have it do a moderate vacuum/mopping of the kitchen floor. If you must know, the pre-set program, which Chris named, is called, “Post YThi Cooking Mess.” And while Mufasa did miss one small caked on spot, I will say that my bare feet walking over it were pretty satisfied with the results afterwards. I am very much looking forward to what the floor looks and feels like once we finally use the wood cleaner in the mix!

Xia pi 虾皮 aka “shrimp skin”

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Although I’ve been cooking since I was a teen, I am most definitely always learning about new ingredients, techniques, dishes, and recipes. When it comes to ingredients, it can get really overwhelming even in a single cuisine. Chinese cuisine could easily be hundreds of different cuisines across the entire country. Although “Eight Great Traditions” of cuisines are recognized across China, I still think this is simplifying the country too much given exactly how large it is and how many influences different parts have given their neighboring countries.

For a long while in the back of my mind, I’d been wanting to buy some xia pi 虾皮 or literally “shrimp skin” when translated into English. These are not actually shrimp skins, but are teeny tiny translucent sun-dried shrimp, just a bit bigger than a peppercorn, that are used as a savory, umami-rich condiment in Chinese cooking. They add a strong, salty sea flavor to dishes like soups and stir-fries. Given its strong umami flavor, they can replace salt in a dish and would definitely require you reduce any added salt/soy sauce to a dish. And because these shrimp are sun-dried, they make for great long-term storage in your fridge or freezer, and can even be used directly from the freezer and added to stocks and stir-fries. I got reminded of xia pi again when I was at the Elmhurst Chinese supermarket I used to frequent when living in the area yesterday. I saw them in packs of half a pound in the refrigerator section and decided that today I’d finally buy some and use. I am looking forward to adding them to near-future soups, vegetable stir-fries, and even an omelet.

I love discovering and trying out new ingredients to make. But I definitely need to balance it with all my other seemingly endless ingredients at home! This is definitely a “first world” problem or challenge, but at least it’s a fun one!

An annoying restaurant concept pivot to cater to the area

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One of the things I love looking at every week is what new restaurants are opening up across the city. I subscribe to a few mailing lists. I keep track of Eater and Infatuation for New York City. I also get a lot of food content (predictably) via my @yvonnemeetsfood Instagram handle. As someone with a young child, I am far less interested nowadays in four-dollar-sign restaurants, potential Michelin-rated restaurants, or tasting menus (though I will say that our one tasting menu at Yingtao last year was truly incredible and finally propelled me to make my first — and so far only — order at Mala Market!). I am more interested in cuisines lesser represented, interesting fusion twists, and small independent bakeries and holes-in-the-wall. If they are a bakery, massive brownie points from me for having sourdough starter as a base, and/or milling their own grains and wheat.

So when I read about Unglo Thai opening just a few blocks from my apartment on the Upper West Side, and merely steps away from the Lincoln Center, I was in total shock. The original restaurant concept was a funky, modern Thai restaurant that featured traditional (and “elevated”) Thai barbecue. I just couldn’t believe that something that traditionally Thai, creative, or unique would be opening directly across the street from the Lincoln Center, and on the Upper West Side, of all places. I may live on the Upper West Side, but I unfortunately find myself repeating often that this area is likely one of the most boring neighborhoods in the city for food. Nothing particularly unique interesting ever opens first here. Occasionally places will open their second or third location on the Upper West Side (I am specifically looking at Salt & Straw from Portland, Oregon, or Radio Bakery, originally from Greenpoint, Brooklyn), but nothing fun and cool ever starts on the Upper West Side.

This restaurant opened about a year ago, and I saved it as a “to try” spot for a future theater night with a friend. Well, last night was a Summer for the City Festival Orchestra night, and it was also a belated birthday dinner for my good friend. So I booked this restaurant about a month ago, thinking we would have Thai BBQ. And then two days before, I checked the menu… to only find out that after a few months, they weren’t doing so well. I guess it was all a little too authentic and too true to Thai cuisine for the uppity, stick-up-your-butt old fuddy-duds of the Upper West Side / arts crowd. So they had to pivot to “elevated Thai comfort food.” I was not very happy about this, as I was very much looking forward to a Thai BBQ meal so close to home. But I figured the menu was still more interesting than your average pad thai/pad see ew/green/red/yellow curry, so I’d stick with it.

I was happy I stuck with this decision. My two favorite dishes we ordered were the kua rib fingers, described as “wok-tossed wagyu rib fingers with southern Thai “kua” curry paste.” It was rich, sticky, and super fragrant and flavorful with makrut lime leaf and lemongrass featured prominently. I also loved the pomelo salad, which had the pomelo pieces cut thick and sectioned, with a pla-ra dressing with tomatoes, shallots, culantro (yes, CU-lantro! It was so good and pungent with really thick leaves!), mint, and crispy school prawns.

Although I may have been ready for Thai barbecue on the Upper West Side, especially by the Lincoln Center, unfortunately this area was not quite ready for it. The Upper West Side has a long way to go before it becomes a destination dining neighborhood (other than for Tatiana, which I may never successfully get a reservation at because it’s so freaking competitive). I am still sad Unglo’s original concept did not survive, but I do think what they pivoted to is still delicious with real Thai flavors worth trying and even going back to for a delicious evening.

Summer for the City 2026 – Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center: A Mother’s Love

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For the last three years, I’ve been able to enjoy at least one pay-what-you-wish performance at the Lincoln Center’s Summer for the City arts series. The performances I’ve seen have ranged from orchestral performances to modern opera, but they’ve all been a little escape from my day to day life and a way to appreciate the arts scene at an affordable price just steps away from my apartment. Whenever I have gone, I feel very lucky that I can walk five minutes to David Geffen Hall and five minutes back. Ever since we moved to this part of the city, I always consider it a privilege that we live so close to a global performing arts space.

Tonight, my friend and I had dinner to celebrate her belated 40th birthday, and to see the Festival Orchestra of Lincoln Center perform “A Mother’s Love,” a series of mother-child inspired orchestral performances. What I had forgotten about and was reminded of was that there was a guest performance by Abel Selaocoe, a famous South African cellist/vocalist tonight. As soon as I heard his voice over the cello, there were goosebumps all along my arms. I could tell my friend was called to attention because her eyes immediately widened, and we were trying to see Abel’s mouth move from our far right seats. He was singing in his native language over his cello, but he also did quite a bit of throat singing, which I am not used to hearing. He used this deep, guttural voice that seemed to bring out more than a single pitch at the same time. It was such a strange and ear-catching thing to be able to listen to in person, and in a performance hall as renowned as David Geffen Hall.

My friend went a little nuts after, especially since she loves to sing and sang with a group at her high school. She could not stop talking about this cellist’s throat singing. And all I could hear was the sound of his voice in my head after. I immediately made a mental note to look this performer up on Spotify and ‘favorite’ his available music so I could listen to it in the background while working.

My friend and I don’t get out at night that often, but this was a great reason to be out. Every time I walk home from these performances, I feel thankful to live in this great, diverse, art-filled city, and to live so freaking close to the Lincoln Center.

I spent 1 hour and 45 minutes commuting this morning in Manhattan

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It is a little strange to think that it’s already been over 6.5 years of 100 percent remote working for me. The pandemic started it at my last job. Then I got laid off, found this job, and miraculously, I am still here! I accepted the role as a remote employee and have never looked back. I had always been in a office five days a week prior, as that was just “normal” back then. But now that I am fully remote, it’s hard to imagine being back in an office five days a week, every single week, especially with a child.

Because Kaia has been in school in Chinatown, I am usually on the subway six days of the week (plus Saturday when we’re out and about). I obviously love having reliable public transit since I hate driving. And I love the New York City subway. But occasionally, I have days like today when I really hate commuting when it’s not by foot — completely. Somehow, it took me over 40 minutes just to get her from our apartment near Lincoln Center to her summer camp in Chinatown. I had to take two trains, then walk about 12 minutes from the stop before her actual stop with her to her school. After that, I got on the 6 train to go up to Park Avenue South and 27th Street for today’s office space; that commute took over an hour because the 4/5/6 trains had some signal malfunction, and every single train was either not moving or moving at worse-than-snail speed. I took the 6, then transferred to a yellow train at 14th Street/Union Square to go up to 28th Street. When I finally got to the office just past 9:40, I realized I had already spent an hour and 45 minutes just commuting today. Just think about this: almost two hours to get from Columbus Circle to Manhattan Chinatown and back up to NoMad. THAT IS MAD.

When the subway is working fine, with no signal malfunctions, no sick passengers, and no idiots who decide to go on the train tracks, the subway is amazing. And when it’s not going great, which affected five of the trains I tried to take today, it’s completely and utterly maddening. And it reinforces my desire to keep working remotely or only consider companies that will allow hybrid work. So much time (AND MONEY) is lost when crap like today happens.

The psychology of parenting

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A friend linked me this podcast, The Psychology of Parenting with Dan Siegel, and said she thought I’d like it. It’s essentially about how parenting isn’t really about the child, but about learning about oneself. I immediately recognized Dan Siegel’s name. About two years ago, I read a book he co-authored called The Whole Brain Child, and I really liked the overall takeaways of the book; it resonated with me at the time because it discussed what I already believed, which is that who we are is shaped by our past and past experience; based on those past experiences, we can improve ourselves for our children. I was even more intrigued when I later found out that Dan Siegel went into this area of research driven by his own mercurial childhood, with a raging father and and an emotionally avoidant mother. He is on a long, never-ending journey to understanding his past, present, and future!

I listened to the podcast in full today. During the podcast, he goes through high level points of what drives healthy child development, which has been summed up (pretty smartly!) as the “4 S’s,” which I still remember from reading his book:

  • Safe: The child feels protected from physical and emotional harm. This includes caregivers avoiding frightening behavior and repairing the relationship after mistakes.
  • Seen: The caregiver looks beneath the child’s behavior and tries to understand their feelings, thoughts, and inner experience.
  • Soothed: When the child is distressed, the caregiver helps them through it. Over time, this repeated “inter-soothing” helps the child learn to soothe themselves.
  • Secure: This develops from consistently feeling safe, seen, and soothed. The child learns, “I can rely on my caregiver, I am worthy of care, and I can handle difficult feelings.” 

His takeaway: the key idea is not perfect parenting, but reliably showing up and repairing when things go wrong. In Siegel’s framework, secure attachment grows from the repeated overall pattern—not from preventing every disappointment, conflict, or tantrum.

What I did not write about two years ago but thought a lot about after reading The Whole Brain Child was how the 4 S’s noted here are a summary of everything Ed lacked. He never felt safe from physical or emotional harm, as my parents repeatedly screamed and yelled at him. My mom used to hit him as a child, sometimes for things that weren’t even “wrong.” My dad would roar like a lion in the house and constantly criticize and name call him. There was never any semblance of “repair”: they’d just go about their day as though nothing happened after. Ed frequently told me he felt invisible to our dad. He’d be right in the room and not hear anything he said. Our dad preferred talking to himself than talking to us. To “understand feelings” of one’s own child is a pretty impossible task when our dad could not even understand his own feelings. Our parents rarely “soothed” us; instead when they saw us down, they’d double down and add more doubt, making us feel even worse. Ed never felt like he could rely on my parents to share anything, so even when he got abused by a teacher in elementary school, my parents didn’t find out about it until after he died, when they went through his belongings and read about it in a college essay he wrote.

The truth is that I don’t really think I experienced any of the four S’s with our parents, either, yet I turned out completely differently. And I still think a huge part of this is because I found mentors in my middle and high school teachers who really looked after me, nurtured me, and made me feel “seen” and truly understood.

We can’t bring Ed back. We can’t change my parents. But we can use all this past history to inform how we move forward, and how I choose to parent Kaia. I hope I am always able to make her feel safe, seen, soothed, and secure. And when I am not, that I am able to be a fucking adult about it and admit my wrongs, apologize, take ownership, and move forward with her.

A day spent at Sojo Spa Club

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A friend of mine told me she wanted to go to Sojo Spa Club on her day off and asked if I wanted to come. I had heard of this specific spa in Edgewater, but I didn’t have anyone who would be interested in going there with me, so I never thought too much about it until this friend brought it up. I’m always up for a spa visit, so I told her that I’d come.

So we went after I made an online booking for us. When we arrived, I was surprised to see there was already a line of people waiting to get checked in. While I recognize this is a Korean-owned spa, I was not quite prepared for how strict it would be. The website said they do not allow any food or beverages inside. So when we entered, we had to go through a security check, which included not just the obvious weapons search, but they also took out any snacks or food that anyone had and separated them by guest name for pickup after the end of the spa visit. They made my friend take her son’s protein bar and put it in a ziplock back with her name on it. They even made me empty out the water from my reusable water bottle! I found this a little ridiculous — were we going through the airport?!

We arrived in the morning, so it was nice and quiet in most of the spa pools we visited. My friend said she asked ChatGPT for a recommendation on the order in which we should visit the different spa sections, and it told her that we should go to the infinity pool first on the top floor to enjoy the view before the crowds descended. This recommendation was 100 percent spot on, as when we first got into the pool overlooking Manhattan, it was just us and two other people there. By the time we left, there were at least eight others. One annoying thing about the infinity pool: no signs say this, but you’re not allowed to swim in it. It’s for soaking only. My friend tried to swim on her back on the pool, and within three second, an employee came out of nowhere to tell her she wasn’t allowed to swim laps. This sounded pretty insane for the only pool of its size in the entire spa.

In the locker rooms understandably, they do not allow mobile phone usage. But they ask you to download a map of the spa onto your phone to navigate it. I whipped out my phone to see where we should go next, and once again within seconds, yet another employee came out to remind me that cell phone use was not allowed in the locker room.

Once we ate lunch, my friend went to get a Korean scrub while I enjoyed the hydro-jet pool and read on my Kindle on the endless lounge chairs. It felt really nice and relaxing to be able to read a book in the middle of the day. But I will say that the entire area was getting quite crowded. The pools all had lots of people in them, and almost every lounge chair around me was either claimed or occupied. Morning is definitely the best time to be here.

I will say that I’ve never seen this many employees in any spa before in the U.S. This was pretty intense to me, and really annoying that it felt like everything was being policed so heavily. But I will say that the spa was a good experience overall with lots of different relaxation areas that were well put together. I really enjoyed the outdoor thermal pools and the wet sauna. The hydro-jet soaking pool was also very fun and intense — very good to get out those kinks in your back, and not for the faint of heart!

I’m not in a rush to come back here, but it’s nice to know that a massive spa complex like this exists not too far from Manhattan. Edgewater is just across the Hudson River, but it felt like a world away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

A question I’ve never been asked before

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“Yvonne, who does your Botox?”

I wrinkled my brow and was completely caught off guard by the question. “Excuse me?” I blurted out. Did I hear this right?

“Who does your Botox?” my friend asked again with a smile on her face.

“Oh, I don’t do Botox!” I said, surprised. Then, I got confused. Does it look like parts of my face don’t move “normally”?! “Why, does it look like I do Botox?”

“No, not at all,” my friend insisted, still smiling and now laughing. “Your skin just looks so good. I thought you did Botox. In fact, doesn’t everyone do Botox?”

I laughed at this and paused. “Actually, I don’t think I have any friends who do Botox,” I replied to her.

She smiled even bigger this time. “Yes, you do. You have me.”

That’s when I was even more shocked. She does Botox?! She doesn’t look like she does it. As I’ve gotten into my mid-30s and am now 40, I can spot Botox on people’s faces pretty quickly. Some people are more obvious than others. But you can usually tell when you look at people who have been doing it for a long time. Their faces just do not move as naturally as they should when they smile or laugh. The tops of the cheeks and the foreheads that never move are usually the dead giveaway. She pointed out the three parts of her forehead where she’s been getting it done over the last year by her doctor friend, who shares a vial of Botox across three friends and splits the cost. I suppose she is an example of someone who does Botox where it actually looks natural.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, (friend’s name) hosts a Botox party about every three months,” my friend said. “And you are always more than welcome to join!”

In general, I’d always been against cosmetic surgery for things like eyelids surgery (UGH), boob jobs (except in the case of breast cancer related breast reconstruction, which frankly I do not consider “cosmetic”), face lifts, and anything related. I just think we have what we have, and we should work with what we have. On the other hand, I’m all for people getting things removed they do not like that really bother them (e.g. moles, sun spots, freckles, permanent body hair removal. Contrary to what Chris thinks, those procedures are not “cosmetic surgery.” They are cosmetic removals). And as we age, in general we should embrace the gift of getting older by taking care of our bodies, which includes our skin and hair. I’m a huge advocate of sun protection/sunscreen. I believe in regular exercise and eating well. And I believe in trying to reduce stressors, which all lead to a healthier and hopefully happier life and health span. And I’ve been pro retinol, vitamin C, and other skin nourishing ingredients forever. But outside of that, I never really considered any cosmetic surgery like Botox, fillers, or the like.

But then when my friend mentioned Botox, it started making me think of actual numbers. And that’s when I asked ChatGPT to give me a breakdown of usage: It shared that about 5 percent of the U.S. population aged 25 and above uses cosmetic Botox. The breakdown is estimated to be: 20% Baby Boomers and older; 39% Generation X; 35% Millennials; 6% Generation Z and younger. So that’s about 12 million people in this country — not a small number.

As I’ve gotten older, while I still do not think any of those cosmetic procedures are right for me (and more so, I absolutely am not willing to pay any of those prices out of pocket!), I’ve relaxed my general stance on them. At the end of the day, people have to do what they are comfortable with, and if they have the time and money to spend on these procedures, and they make them feel good about themselves, then all power to them. Plus for women especially, the beauty and “youth” standards are so stupid, senseless, and unrealistic that I totally understand why some women would just default to Botox, fillers, etc., once they get to a certain age, assuming they have a certain level of means. Yes, even today, the ageism against women continues to be that worse versus for men. So much for the equaling of the damn sexes.