No Surgery Needed

No Surgery Needed

'Nine out of ten women agreed that No Surgery Needed was better than their current anti-aging product,' said the authoritative woman's voice on the TV advert. 'Buy No Surgery Needed and see the years fall away. Don't just reduce the signs of aging, reverse them with No Surgery Needed.'
Steph stared at the screen and the pale bottle of anti-aging cream that was shown for a moment before the next ad came on. She had spent the entire evening snuggled up on the sofa in her two up, two down terraced house trying not to think about her age and frowned as she pressed the 'off' button on the remote. Sighing, she rose from the cream coloured settee and trudged out of the lounge in her fluffy, white dressing gown, bare feet padding on the fawn carpet.
In the bathroom off the hallway, she stared at her face in the mirror above the white sink. 'Well, Stephanie Price, you're going to need a damn sight more than anti-aging cream,' she commented to her reflection, noting the lines at the corners of her mouth and crow's feet deepening around her eyes. In two days she'd be forty and the battle against the signs of aging was getting harder every day, as was the battle against the rising depression she felt as her birthday drew ominously closer.
'Maybe I should get some of that No Surgery Needed stuff,' she said to herself, bending closer to the mirror to inspect the wrinkles that were starting to become noticeable on her forehead after brushing aside strands of long, dark hair.
Shrugging, Steph then prepared to brush her teeth and get ready for bed, tired from a long day at the office and needing to recharge her batteries before another day of drudgery.
The next day she popped out to the nearby store on her lunch break to buy some chocolate in an attempt to cheer herself up. It had been a tedious morning of shuffling paperwork, just like any other, and she believed the job was the cause of most of the lines on her face.
She wandered down the aisles in the shop in her white blouse and navy skirt. Strip-lights flickered above as she stopped before the display of cosmetics, her gaze coming to rest on the little, plastic bottles of No Surgery Needed. She narrowed her dark eyes and read the label; 'Making face-lifts a thing of the past.'
Steph looked at the bottle dubiously and contemplated whether or not she should waste her money again. She'd tried most of the products available already, but none seemed up to the job of shifting her wrinkles, despite what the adverts claimed.
She ran her right hand through her dark hair as she pondered. 'Maybe I really do need surgery,' she thought with a frown.
'It works you know,' came a girl's voice from beside her, making Steph jump.
She turned to her left to find two girls standing there. The eldest was around eleven years old and looked up at her with a cheery expression as she held the right hand of the other girl, who was about six. Steph guessed they were sisters, their facial similarities clear to see. They both had petite noses and high cheek bones, along with flowing, blonde hair, all of which gave them a somewhat Scandinavian look.
'I've been using it since it first came out and swear by the stuff,' smiled the eldest girl, cascading locks framing her angelic face, not one blemish visible on her smooth skin.
Steph nodded, but didn't say a word, unsure as to why such a young girl would even consider using anti-aging treatments and thinking maybe she was pulling her leg, that or the power of advertising was worryingly strong.
'You put it on before you go to bed and, hey-presto, after only a few days you start to notice the effects,' said the girl brightly as she picked a bottle from the shelf.
'It seems a lot of money to pay for some face cream,' responded Steph, finally taking the girl seriously.
'It's worth it though,' said the girl, blue eyes filled with a youthful sparkle. 'My name's Betty, by the way.'
'I'm Steph,' she replied with a thin smile.
'Those smile lines would be gone in a week or two,' commented Betty as she studied Steph's face. 'And the crow's feet too,' she added.
Steph blushed under the close scrutiny of the girl. 'I doubt that,' she replied.
'Try it,' insisted Betty, holding the bottle out to Steph, who stared at it momentarily and then took it from the child's hand.
'Does your mother use it?' Steph asked after glancing at the label.
Betty shook her head. 'No. I'm afraid my mother passed away a long, long time age, but my daughter does,' she replied, glancing at the younger girl beside her.
'Daughter!' exclaimed Steph in surprise, eyes widening.
'That's right. I'm eighty-five,' she grinned. 'I told you this stuff works.'