I don’t think I’ve ever really explained why this blog is called Saving for Botox. I guess I just assumed readers would figure out the name is a metaphor once they figure out (after a quick scroll-through) that there’s nothing here about make-up, anti-aging or anything remotely related to wellness and aging gracefully or the Botox that’s so blatantly mentioned. If you stumbled onto my site expecting a blog that was all about the actual injectable, I’m sorry. Not that sorry, but, y’know.
Saving for Botox is about the crucial moment in adulthood where the idealistic part of you still thinks you’re young while the realistic part of you is busy shaking its head vehemently. It’s an awkward phase. One is old enough to remember things like dial-up modems and cassette tapes and young enough to use gifs and appreciate memes.
This is the blog of someone who’s dealing with the adventures of getting older, and a lot of the time I mention the 90’s because it’s the decade where I was simultaneously the happiest, and the most tortured.
I live in Toronto, Canada by way of Dumaguete, Philippines. It was a giant leap to make, but one that was done for love. That is how a product of the tropical islands has found herself in a (mostly) land-locked country of mountains, lakes, and permafrost.
I have been emotionally scarred by an otap vendor, reserve my energies for tennis and good 90’s boybands, and am fairly unapologetic about my predilection for Top 40 and trashy romance novels. I worship at the altar of carbs – I really should stop – and if you find a way to send Jollibee peach mango pie to me whenever I’m feeling down, I will be your friend forever.
You can reach me at iamsavingforbotox [at] gmail [dot] com / @nikkajow on Twitter. Sometimes parts of this blog make their way into the Dumaguete Metropost, my little hometown’s leading weekly.