My appointment's over, and the first thing I do is call my mom for a quick recap. I want to give her the good news that I fulfilled her Christmas wish, but I also kinda want to freak her out and make her think I'm considering injections. I know she'll probably flip when she hears Dr. Shamban suggested fillers. She doesn't even like the idea of me getting a spray tan.
To give you an idea of how this all went down, I'll leave you with a brief transcript from my phone call with mom:
Me: Hi, mom. I'm just leaving the dermatologist appointment.
Mom: Hi, honey. How'd it go?
Me: Well, she was very informative and said I had great skin.
Mom: Yes, she is right, you do have great skin!
Me: And she really urged the importance of sunscreen to keep my skin looking this way for a long time.
Mom: Yes, yes, exactly! She is exactly right.
Me: Really, she seemed to agree with you completely on staying out of the sun and always wearing sunscreen.
Mom: Yes, she is so right. So, so right.
Me: And then she suggested I get Restylane injections underneath my eyes.
Mom: What?! WHAT!? Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
Me: Just a couple quick injections to diminish the appearance of my under eye circles.
Mom: Oh, no, no, no. So wrong. She is so wrong on that one. Injections!? WHAT?!
Me: It's OK mom, they're $900. I'm not getting any injections.
Mom: (Dramatic sigh of relief) Oh, thank God! For a second there I was thinking I just led you down the path of Botox.
Me: Restylane.
Mom: Whatever! So you're not getting any injections?
Me: No, I'm cool with what I got.
Follow Dr. Ava Shamban on Twitter: @DrAvaMD
"All I want for Christmas is for you to make an appointment with a renowned dermatologist."
As bizarre as this request sounds, I wasn't surprised when my mom called to tell me this last December. Most mothers ask their daughters for a pair of slippers, or maybe a cute scarf. But my mom? She's a special one.
My mom is so obsessed with skin care you'd think she was the First Lady running on a platform of sun damage awareness. Seriously, she makes Michelle Obama look lazy when it comes to her childhood obesity campaign. Mom sent me a box filled with almost a dozen types of sunscreen -- all with an SPF of 75 or higher -- when I told her I was moving to Los Angeles. The note read, "A few essentials for your move to Southern California."
So I wasn't exactly shocked when my mom insisted that my Christmas gift to her focus on my skin care regimen. "You live in Beverly Hills," she said. "There have to be some renowned dermatologists there. Please make an appointment with a really good one. That's all I want."
I rolled my eyes, and tried to suppress a whiny, "But, mommmm." I'm 27 and my mom is still making me do stuff. But what kind of awful daughter would I be to deny my mom this totally selfless Christmas present?
"OK, I'll make an appointment -- but that's not all you're getting. Expect some clothes or something from J.Crew," I say, defiantly. My mom laughed. "The dermatologist appointment is the only thing I want!" She paused and added, "Well, that, and maybe take your car in for an oil change. I feel like you haven't done that in a while."
She's not joking.
Even though I acted totally put out by my mom's request, it's actually not that hard to make an appointment with an excellent derm. I am a beauty editor, and I live in the land of renowned dermatologists. I figure if I'm going to do this, I may as well do it up right. It is my mom's Christmas present, after all. So I make an appointment with the most renowned dermatologist I can think of,
Dr. Ava Shamban, who is the expert dermatologist from "Extreme Makeover" and author of "Heal Your Skin".
After I book my appointment, I actually start to get kind of excited. My mom is right; I haven't seen a dermatologist in a while, and I probably should. I actually like my skin, and it is the largest organ in my body (a fact that's always freaked me out), so I want to keep it looking good for as long as possible. I've heard amazing things about Dr. Shamban, and I feel like I've won the skin care lottery by scoring an appointment with her.
OK, so essentially what I'm dancing around here is...maybe my mom was right.
