Like a lot of you, I was emotionally destroyed by the season three finale of The White Lotus—even though I had already (kind of) predicted its upsetting end. Aimee Lou Wood’s portrayal of the astrology-obsessed and free-spirited yet tragically devoted Chelsea was undeniably captivating. It was impossible not to notice every flicker of panic, hope, and adoration that crossed her face, which made audiences fall in love with the character (and made it even harder for us to see her go).
There’s been a lot of talk about Wood’s “charming” and “inspiring” teeth, but I’ve personally been far more charmed and inspired by how expressive her face is, both on the show and in interviews. As Chelsea, Wood widens her eyes and slants her eyebrows up when confused, bares her teeth and scrunches her whole face in terror, and barely contains her smile when smitten.
In the current Hollywood landscape, a face so flexible is basically considered a quirk—one that 31-year-old Wood is not just aware but proud of. Just before The White Lotus season finale, she made a guest appearance on Vogue’s podcast The Run-Through and described herself as “very anti-Botox.” (She said she’s never gotten any other kind of injectable either.) “It’s obvious… because of how expressive my [face] is, and my eyebrows,” she said. “A lot of my career relies on these facial expressions…so I can’t start freezing my face. It needs to move.” And move, it does.
This weekend I found myself sitting in a med spa, watching my 29-year-old sister get Botox for the first time with Wood’s words ringing in my ears. The med spa was hosting one of their “tox parties,” with free consultations and Botox for just $10 per unit. While my sister checked in, I sat on the fuzzy white sofa, flipping through the glossy pamphlets displayed on the oblong coffee table. A mother with glass-smooth skin browsed shelves full of clinical-looking skin-care products in minimalist packaging as her two young daughters nibbled on green and white vial-shaped cookies. They’d picked them up on the second floor, where the actual party was happening—complete with delicate flash tattoos, ear piercings, a neon sign nestled in a wall of artificial ivy that declared, “It’s GLOW Time.”
I’d gone in thinking I’d go for it myself, or at least consider a consultation. I’d been interested in injectables for a while, after all. At first, I saw Botox as a possible solution to my recurring migraines, but I eventually became curious about what it could do for me aesthetically. I’d watch self-described injectors on TikTok talk about the benefits of “facial balancing” and bookmark before and after posts on Instagram. I wouldn’t call it pressure, exactly, but the idea that Botox is just maintenance, like retinol or hair masks or pilates, has been slowly settling into my brain, especially now that I’m in my 30s.
But as I watched my sister lean back in the chair, making small talk with the nurse injector about her aesthetic goals, I felt an unexpected shift. Suddenly, I wasn’t so sure I even wanted a consultation, let alone anything injected into my face.
It wasn’t the Botox itself that made me hesitate, or the needles or the bright light or the Harry Styles song blaring inside the office. It was the idea of possibly losing something. If I were to get Botox every three to four months as my sister’s med spa recommended, I might eventually lose some of the little expressions that make me who I am: the way my brows furrow when I’m reading, the way part of my lip tends to pull upwards in photos, even when I think I’m being pouty and mysterious.
My sister left the appointment thrilled with her results. I left happily without having gone near a needle. Were it not for what Wood said on that podcast, things might not have shaken out this way.
She isn’t the only White Lotus star who inspired my decision to not pursue Botox in the end. Although I loved Chelsea, Carrie Coon’s character, Laurie, is the one I’ve really been rooting for this season. Coon, who is 44, has also said she is Botox- and filler-free (in response to a social media commenter who said she looked “simultaneously 35 and 55” and also: “fine as hell”). Laurie’s face is noticeably more open, alert, and, well, textured than that of her childhood friends Kate and Jaclyn (played by Leslie Bibb and Michelle Monaghan, respectively, who are both a few years older than Coon).
They share a dynamic of competitiveness, tension, non-stop gossip, and an obsession with youth and desire. In the first episode, the trio gets into a compliment-off over who looks more “amazing.” Kate pushes Jaclyn to reveal the work she’s had done, to which she responds, “I haven’t done anything except, you know, a little maintenance. The basics.” (Unlike Wood and Coon, Bibb and Monaghan haven't spoken publicly about injectables or facial plastic surgery they’ve undergone—at least not in any interviews I can find.) Laurie finally settles the conversation with: “You look like you just got pushed out of a birth canal.” Though all three of them are beautiful, it’s refreshing to see a woman in her 40s like Laurie, whose face doesn’t look shellacked to clichéd perfection. And I have to wonder: If it did, would her season finale monologue—about sadness and regret and time and meaning—have held the same power?
Both Wood and Coon have reminded me over the past eight weeks that part of what makes our faces—and our personalities—captivating isn't smoothness or symmetry; it's the tiny flickers of emotion that play across them, the way they change over time, the histories they hold. For me, learning to love my face exactly as it is has been part of a larger project: learning to feel at home in my body after years of being told how to “improve” it. Though I’ve come a long way with that, there are still days when the mirror feels more like a magnifying glass.
It’s easy to feel like you have to age “the right way”—that is, not really at all. In other words, aging with an arsenal of expensive skin-care products, a gym membership, and a skilled injector who can leave just enough flexibility in your forehead to keep things looking “natural.” That’s why I don’t shame anyone for choosing to get Botox or filler—even “anti-Botox” Wood maintains that people should do whatever they please with their own faces. My sister, who did just that, left her appointment feeling cared for and beautiful. That’s the point, right? We all want to feel good. But for me, at least for now, feeling good means honoring the way my face moves, its funny scrunches and twists, and how it communicates something that just can’t be replicated with a needle.
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