We’ve all heard of rejuvenation as a term long-used by the beauty industry to lure in older women and capitalize on the societal pressures they face to “stay young.” “Pre-juvenation” is the evolution of this, targeting younger women instead of their older counterparts. 

Defined by the Dermatology Times as “patients who begin non-invasive beauty treatments sooner to prevent, rather than later to correct the signs of aging,” pre-juvenation may sound like a rather reasonable decision to prevent signs of aging, but a 2019 American Academy of Facial Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery report revealed a rather gruesome picture. Board-certified facial plastic surgeons reported that out of all the procedures they performed, 85% of them were minimally invasive, indicating a 13% growth in the number of non-surgical procedures since 2018. The most common procedures were neurotoxins such as botox, filler, and skin treatments. Further research faults social media as one of the root causes for this growth, as 72% of those surveyed reported seeing patients seeking procedures to “look better in selfies.” 

How did it all come down to this? 

Capitalism. 

Social media platforms such as Instagram have now become cogs in the larger machine that is capitalism, used to push ideals onto us to incentivize our spending. Capitalism works with the patriarchy to create “flaws” and insecurities we see within ourselves, or point out the ways in which we can better appease the male gaze. The more “flaws” we perceive within ourselves, the more products we buy to address these perceived issues. We have gained a new level of access to people who were unreachable before. We have all been there before, swiping through influencers’ stories; seeing what they’re eating, drinking, doing, and what they’ve gotten done. This increasing openness has desensitized people to the risks of these operations.

I wasn’t even aware of all the things considered to be “flaws.” My smile lines are just from the way my face moves. But my social media algorithm disagrees with me, as another plastic surgeon’s Instagram reel pops up on my feed, suggesting various types of non-invasive surgeries I can do to keep parts of me “youthful.”

My skin crawls as I scroll away, sometimes switching apps if it was hitting a little too close to home. 

A close friend of mine from high school texted me that one of our mutual friends had gotten a discount on her double-eyelid surgery in Seoul, expressing an interest in going to the same clinic. A relative of mine took my photo to the clinic and got lip fillers to get my lips because she thought it would make her look younger. 

“I wanna still look related to the family, you know?” she told me in Vietnamese. 

What am I to do now? Will it be my turn? It’s not like I can scroll away from them, nor can I log off. This obsession with looking younger is now seeping into our immediate circle: this trend is staying, for better or worse.