Dr. Brucker's preferred filler is Restylane, which, he says, is the most natural temporary filler made of hyaluronic acid (HA). If you don't like your lip look, an injection of hyaluronidase eraser enzyme dissolves the filler in five minutes.

He cleans my lip area with antiseptic wipes and injects a numbing solution to calm the bee sting feel of the filler needle. As the numbing quickly takes effect, I mumble questions about the procedure and what to expect afterwards.

"First I'll inject filler into the lower lip for balance. Then we'll do the top. With lines like yours," he says, sadly, "we can't fill them all, but you'll like the smoother result, and the few little remaining lines won't be noticeable."

Here we go. "You'll feel needle pricks and some stinging. Ready?" he smiles. My mouth mumbles "yep!" My wide eyes scream "OMG!"

I stare at the ceiling. Guided by his bright magnifying light, Brucker sticks the needle with quick jabs in and up methodically along the bottom of my lower lip, stopping between each stick to wipe and look. "How ya doing?"

"Onesty car fee a ing," I say, my lips too numb to articulate.

He wheels around me on his stool checking the symmetry of his work. Happy, he takes to my top lip. "OK still?" he asks, as he sticks the needle from my top lip line deep and up towards my nose.

"Ess," my eyes watering a little.

"Wow, you're my first patient ever who hasn't even flinched or asked me to take a break."

Yeh, I'm tough. Needles don't bother me. I'm lucky that way.

"All done." It's been less than 10 minutes.

I look in the mirror. "Please no trout pout. Please no trout pout," screams my anxiety. And there looking back at me is an only-slightly swollen smooth lip. I beam with relief, seriously elated, and Brucker grins. He's good and knows it. His assistant hands me a blue gel pack of cool beads and that's it.

Brucker confirms my research. "You may have minor swelling and bruising for three to seven days -- it's different for everyone," and recommends arnica cream to diminish any bruising from the lip injections.

Back in the car, I stare in the visor mirror again. My lips are not even that swollen, and I don't think my husband will even notice. I drive holding the ice pack to my lips and head home. I refreeze the pack and keep sneaking away to pat my lip. It's evening, our lights are dim, I'm feeling good.

The next day I can see the successful smoothing and only slight swelling, and hubby is oblivious. I forget to get arnica cream. Like I said, I don't bruise easily. Was I wrong.

Nobody seems to notice over the next two days, or they're just too polite to say anything. I check the mirror each morning and, yay, no bruising.

Then, day four. I get up and just pull my hair back and throw on a baseball cap. No makeup. We're heading to the beach. Watching my son surf, I look in my phone and see black streaky patches on both sides of my upper lips, and my bottom lip swollen like a guppy. Hubby says, "you've got dirty sand on your face." I pretend to rub, pull my cap down to shade my face and pat foundation on as soon as we're home. That's my routine for the next few days, and as the swelling disappears, a natural smooth result reveals itself.

A week later, my husband compliments me: "You're looking so much more relaxed. Your face is so much softer." I look at him suspiciously, convinced he knows my secret and is just being polite. So, I confess. He swears he had no idea, didn't notice any change, and just thought I had a dirty face as you often do when you have horses that you ride through mud and dust.

"I like it. You look lovely." And that's all I needed to hear.