“Getting work done” is no longer the secret it once was. But if you’re considering going under the knife or needle, you deserve to be informed. In our series, Life in Plastic, we’re breaking down everything you need to know, from injectables to invasive treatments. Choose to change your looks or don’t—the point is, the choice is yours.

Of all the appearance-altering decisions I’ve made in my life, none has been met with more judgment than my first brush with injectables. Friends who were totally on board with my permanent budget airport code tattoos (I love them to this day, if anyone is keeping track) were suddenly aghast when I uttered the words temporary cheek fillers.

Data for 2019 from Allergan suggests that there is a lot less stigma attached to medical aesthetics than there was five years ago. Maybe that’s true, but in my personal experience, telling someone you’re getting poked in the face with a needle is a surefire way to make them freak out on you. There’s a fine line between recognizing the pressures put on women’s bodies by society and assuming that doing anything to your face must stem from wanting to please men or hating yourself. Something about the words Botox and fillers seems to provoke a visceral response in people who haven’t tried it before. If I were to plot the reactions in a pie chart, half the circle would be taken up by appalled disgust and the other half would consist of some variation on the question, “Why do you think there’s something wrong with your face? You don’t need to change it.” To which I would reply with my typical modesty: “I never said there’s anything wrong with my face, this right here is perfect. I’m just trying something new for a few months.”

It’s not my intention to make light of the decision to try injectables. For starters, they’re wildly expensive and must be left in the hands of skilled professionals. If you would like to follow in my footsteps, please do your research first. In my specific case, I happen to inhabit the intersection of two rare factors: access to the best derms in the business and a working environment where I’ve observed lots of impeccably done fillers (which I can only identify because they are so openly and casually discussed among beauty editors). This might be a completely deluded perspective, but getting fillers for six months felt on par with that time I suddenly wanted (and subsequently got) bright red highlights, just for the hell of it—not because I disliked anything about my own hair color. I would love to offer up a deeper reason for going under the needle here than “I felt like it,” but that basically sums it up. I felt like it. So I did.

This is how I ended up visiting Munich one chilly spring day, where you can find the absurdly elegant offices of dermatologist and Royal Fern founder Timm Golueke, M.D. Golueke once identified that I have mild rosacea in 30 seconds flat and has a track record of giving me sound advice, so I felt great about placing the fate of my cheekbones in his capable hands.

I asked for something “quite subtle, but also noticeable,” which is the kind of infuriatingly vague request derms find it hard to deliver on. After further discussion, I got it together enough to make the clearer request of more prominent cheekbones—”a little bit sharper,” I told him. Once this was decided and he informed me that he would inject sparingly on the side that was already higher, my mid-face was treated to thick diagonal stripes of numbing cream for 10 minutes while he prepped a fresh vial of Restylane.

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