If you've visited marthaquinnpresents.com before, you may have seen my writings about ummm...facial rejuvenation. I'd almost abandoned the project but Monya in New Jersey wrote, "What happened with the cosmetic work thread?!  What happened?  Were you happy?  I think your dilemma is something that a lot of aging people struggle with and I wanna hear what happened," so I continued my face-umentary. 

Tonight, at 11:17pm, I'm posting the next installment.

When I last left off, I was sitting in the red-leather antique dentist's chair, telling the doctor, who I'll call Dr. B (for Botox) my whole story. You know, the whole photo shoot coming up, want to look good for the camera, feel responsible to the company, yet at the same time I'm the hippie girl who always swore I'd age naturally.

I'm guessing Dr. B had heard the "I'm a natural gal" bit before, because he had a speech all buckled up and ready for take-off. "If you bought a Victorian home and painstakingly restored it to it's former glory, people would applaud you. If you re-built a 1967 Mustang, strangers would stop you in the street and congratulate you. Why wouldn't we care for our own appearance like we would a car?"

Two Marthas responded to this reasoning. Malibu Martha thought, "That's an excellent point. What' so bad about restoring me to my former glory?" Manhattan Martha thought, "Yeah right. Where'd you get that rap from, the Botox conference? The one where the company flew their top pushers to Acapulco for a week of Tequila, hookers, and blow?"

The words, however, that left my mouth were, "OK. If I just walked in here and said, 'Here's my face, what should I do?' what would you recommend?" Dr. B gave me a once-over, and announced my prescription. Microdermabrasion to brighten up my complexion, and Vstar laser for a few spider veins, and to "re-invigorate" my skin's collagen production. His list continued. Botox for the creases in my forehead and the fine lines around my eyes, and Restylane, a collagen-like filler, for the "marionette" lines, (the ones that go from the sides of your nose down to the sides of your mouth) and for the vertical lines that are starting to sprout from my lips.

It's funny, my grand-mother, Marmie, had those exact same lines, and I never once thought, "Boy, Marmie would look so much better if she didn't have those lip lines." It never even occurred to me. As far as I was concerned she was the coolest grandmother around. She'd been a flapper in the Roaring 20's, lived in Greenwich Village, and had a job at Butterick's designing dress patterns. When she married my Grandfather, Marmie moved upstate and became a woman who could make any vegetable grow and could sew anything from evening gowns to doll pajamas. In her 70's, she took up painting modern art.  I loved her completely and always thought she looked fantastic.

Why am I approaching aging differently? First of all, the hugely popular tabloid media supplies a never-ending parade of beach-bodied young stars who are constant reminders to the rest of us that we don't look like them. The only time gossip magazines show "regular" looking celebs is under gleeful headlines like,  "Elizabeth Hurley's cellulite!" Secondly, cosmetic procedures are so easily available these days, they're almost impossible to resist.  The ready antedote for the insecurity that being clobbered by perfection causes.

So here I am. Sitting in the office of the dermatologist endorsed by my plumber. I've given in to temptation. My granola consciousness was overpowered by my desire to appear as though collagen was running rampant through my epidermis.  I felt a little queasy compromising my organic values, but it calmed my nerves to remind myself that Botox and Restylane are temporary, so there's no harm in trying them out. Plus, I was so curious! What would I look like? Was it possible that I was just minutes away from looking years younger? Maybe I'd look like Courtney Cox, Heather Locklear, Paris...no.  Even in my intoxicated state I knew to keep my sites on the over 30 crowd!

As the doctor plastered my face with numbing cream, I had that excited anticipation Geraldo Rivera must have felt when he was just about to open Al Capone's secret vault on live television.  I couldn't wait to get started. 

To be continued! xoxoxoxo, Martha

Jeff Foxworthy: Martha, you know what you’ve got to do…
Martha: I should have known that one!
Jeff Foxworthy: You’ll feel better once you say it…
Martha: I am not smarter than a FOURTH grader!

One subject they go over and over in 4th grade is state abbreviations. You know, NY, New York. TX, Texas. MT, Montana.
At 3:33am, I found myself mulling over MS, Missouri. All of a sudden that didn’t seem right. That had to be right, what else could MS be? Unless…it…was…oh no! Mississippi!

So when you hear me read an e-mail from Michael in Missouri, please know a) it’s Mississippi, and b) I am not smarter than a fourth grader!!! Xoxoxoxo, Martha

Yeay, I'm back up, I was freaking out all weekend! Perfect time for a snafu-Saturday and Sunday when my shows are airing and every other minute I'm saying, "For a complete list of today's songs go to marthaquinnpresents.com!" For future reference, you can also access my site via marthaquinnonline.com!

"No way, you're joking," is what I kept saying this morning when my husband told me about Lindsay Lohan. Sad. Boy, Promises re-hab must be excited.  The whole world knows she was there for an extended stay. It's probably more that she was an accident waiting to happen, but it's sure not the greatest  advertisement for their program.

My kids are waiting for me to get them to bed, but I just had to write and say I'm so glad we're back!

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo, Martha 

I received two "What was the name of that song?" e-mails recently, and that got me into a trivia mood. So my whole show this week is trivia questions. My favoritie one, 'cause I'm an ex-New Yorker, is about the 1986 World Series. The Mets beat out the Red Sox for the championship and New York went absolutely bonkers. Everyone was throwing little bits of newspaper out of their windows, creating a blizzard of joy. I said to my neighbor, "Come on, we've got to throw some newspaper out the window!" He did the funniest thing, definitely one of my top ten life's funniest moments, he grabbed a Sunday New York Times and said, "You mean like this?" and he chucked the entire thing out the window. It still cracks me up. Of course, we probably sent some reveler to the hospital with a concussion but, hey...LET'S GO METS! 

I was trying to find footage of that crucial game 6 (I don't want to give it away!) and I came upon a re-enactment of that most heart-stopping 8 minutes...done a la RBI Baseball, that Nintendo game. It's so great, you can just tell it's a labor of love for Mr. Sandiegoserenade. I posted it so you can check it out.

Thanks Brad and TL for inspiring this week's show!

So...what's the deal with the Beckhams and why are they taking up my Star/Us/In Touch magazine space?  

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo, Martha 

Hey I'm just about to change my poll but wanted to pass along that Barack Obama got 10% of your votes, John McCain scored 12%, Hillary Clinton wound up with 22%, Rudy Giuliani did the best of the candidates with 23%, but the most popular choice was "None of the above" which received 29% of the votes. 

Next poll will be about Van Halen. They're penciling in fall dates, but have we been toyed with too much to care, or when push comes to shove, will we "Jump" to see them? It'll be interesting to see what you say!

xoxoxoxo, Martha 

I hope everybody had a great 4th! Out here in Malibu I've been working on the continuation of journey into the forbidden land of "facial rejuvenation." Cue the Psycho strings!!! Here's where I left off:
 
Every one here is nice, but I'm not witty and chatty like I was on the phone yesterday, I'm actually nauseous. My hands are sweaty. Crap. I shoulda called Mr. Plumber-man and made him swear on a stack of bibles Jennifer Anniston really was here at this doctor's. There's a space on the patient form that asks, "Is there anything else we should know before we begin treating you?" I write down, "I'm a nervous nelly." Oh no here comes the Doc. Oh god. Wish me luck. Good-bye friends. I'll write after!

I dedicate this continuation to Monya.

Oh friends. Before I confess what just occured, before you lose all respect for me, allow me put forth my defense: I swear they have some sort of hidden device that sucks the oxygen out of the office, making you get light-headed so you can't make a rational decision. It wasn't my fault! I became hypnotized by with the prospect of stimulated collagen! Improved facial clarity! Youthful, radiant skin!

The plot unfolds during the "tour of the office." A better name for the "tour" would be..."The mother of all sales pitches." Each gizmo or procedure the doctor showed me had the sole purpose of bringing me closer to looking like Courtney Cox, Heather Locklear, Pam Anderson! Who knew all these lasers and diamond-encrusted scrapers existed? Where had they been all my life? (See the effects of the oxygen-depravation?) Before I even reached the doctor's office, I'd signed up for three treatments:

1. Microdermabrasion-it leaves you skin "glowing, healthy, and ready for treatment." Treatment? What treatment? Oh well, microdermabrasion really works best with the

2. VStar Laser, a "safe, easy, and quick way to treat imperfections in the skin caused by aging and sun damage. Decreases fine lines and wrinkles, refines and tones the texture of your skin!" For God's sake, who can resist that! Since I was on a roll, I signed up for

3. Vela Smooth. You know, to help achieve a smooth appearance in problem cellulite areas-aaaagh!

Giddy with the idea of a Star Magazine-worthy me, our tour concluded at the doctor's office. This is the Medical Zone. This is where "injectables" like Restylane and Botox happen, and now we're talkin' turkey. Now we're talkin' the big guns. "Surrender, wrinkles, or we'll shoot!"

I'll tell you what happened in the doctor's office in the next installment. Soon, I promise!  xoxoxo, Martha

p.s. Anybody else glued to the Flintstones marathon on Boomerang?