“I Budget for Botox”: The Mindset Shift That Finally Made My Budget Work

For years, I treated budgeting like a crash diet. I’d look at my spreadsheets, slash every "unnecessary" expense to the bone, and tell myself that this was the month I’d finally become a fiscal monk. No dinners out, no overpriced lattes, and definitely no cosmetic procedures. Because how could I justify spending money on that when there are TFSAs to contribute to and RRSPs to max out?!?

Predictably, I failed. Every. Single. Time.

By week three of a new spending plan, I’d feel deprived and rebellious. I’d end up "revenge spending" on something twice as expensive as the thing I denied myself, followed by a shame spiral that usually ended with me ignoring my banking app for a month and just putting more and more on my credit card because “the damage is already done”.

Then, I changed my philosophy: I stopped viewing my budget as a list of restrictions and started viewing it as a map of what matters to me. And that’s why, right there between groceries and car insurance, you’ll find a line item for Botox ($100 per month, if you’re interested).

What Botox actually costs in Canada

So let’s look at the math. In Canada’s urban centres, Botox typically ranges between $8 and $15 per unit, depending on the provider’s experience and the clinic.

Then, different areas of the face require a different number of units. Here’s what it looks like for common treatment areas:

• Forehead lines: ~10–20 units

• Frown lines (“11s”): ~15–25 units

• Crow’s feet: ~6–12 units per side

That means a single session can range from $200 to $600+, depending on how many areas you treat and how many units you need.

Results generally last three to four months, which means many people go three to four times per year. Spread out over 12 months, that can work out to roughly $800 to $2,000+ per year.

And that’s exactly why I budget for it.

Instead of being surprised by a $450 invoice every few months and pretending it “doesn’t count,” I set aside about $100 per month. By the time my appointment rolls around, the money is already there.

But shouldn’t you save that money for retirement?

Sure, in a perfect world, every spare cent I earn would go into my RRSP. And yes, I’m aware that $100 compounded over 30 years could mean roughly $100,000 more at retirement.

But I don’t live in a perfect world, and I’m not a perfect human. If I build a budget that leaves no room for joy or a few small luxuries, I won’t stick to it. And a budget you don’t stick to isn’t virtuous; it’s fictional.

So yes, I might contribute $100 less to my retirement fund this month. But here’s the trade-off: an 85% “perfect” budget that I actually follow is far more powerful than a 100% “perfect” budget I abandon by day five.

The psychology of the "release valve"

Budgeting shouldn't be punitive. If your financial plan feels like a prison sentence, you’re going to try to escape it.

You can white-knuckle your way through deprivation for a while. Maybe even a few months. But eventually, you’ll get tired. You’ll decide you “deserve” something. And instead of a controlled, intentional purchase, you’ll have a blowout.

Including "luxuries", whether that’s a quarterly forehead refresh, a high-end gym membership, or a designer shoe fund, isn’t irresponsible. It’s a release valve. When you know that the thing you love is already accounted for and "paid for" in your plan, the urge to impulse-buy elsewhere loses its power. You aren't "sneaking" a purchase; you’re executing a plan.

The gendered politics of “frivolous” spending

It’s also worth asking why certain expenses get labelled as irresponsible in the first place. Because if I told you I was spending a few hundred dollars on a golf membership to “network,” or upgrading my home office setup, or buying a premium whiskey collection, there’s a decent chance those purchases would be framed as investments. Strategic. Even aspirational.

But Botox? Skincare? Hair? Nails? Suddenly, we’re in the realm of vanity. Frivolity. Poor financial priorities.

A lot of the spending categories that get side-eyed the hardest are the ones traditionally associated with women. Beauty, aesthetics, fashion, wellness. They’re treated like indulgences at best and moral failings at worst. Meanwhile, male-coded spending (like tech gadgets, sports gear, craft beer, luxury watches) often gets a pass as a hobby, passion, or self-improvement.

The subtext is subtle but powerful: money spent on how women look is wasteful, while money spent on how men perform is purposeful.

And yet, we live in a world where women are judged, professionally and socially, on appearance, whether we like it or not. Looking polished, put-together, “healthy,” and energetic isn’t neutral. It affects how you’re perceived in meetings, on dates, online, everywhere. We can argue about whether that’s fair (it’s not), but pretending it doesn’t exist doesn’t make it disappear.

I’m not budgeting for Botox because I think my face is a business asset that must be optimized at all costs. I’m budgeting for it because I like how I feel when I look rested and smooth and like I slept eight hours even when I didn’t. Confidence has a return on investment too, it’s just harder to measure in a spreadsheet.

And more importantly, I refuse to internalize the idea that spending money on something traditionally feminine automatically makes me financially unserious.

So when I put Botox in my budget, it’s not just a line item. It’s a small rejection of the idea that “serious” women only spend on sensible things and quietly deny themselves everything else.

The financial impact of pretty privilege

It’s a regrettable fact that “pretty privilege” is very real. A 2023 large-scale study of MBA graduates found that those perceived as more conventionally attractive earned, on average, about 2.4% more than their peers, which equates to roughly $2,500 USD per year. The research also showed that this advantage persists and compounds over time, with the most attractive individuals seeing significantly larger gains and a higher likelihood of landing more prestigious roles later in their careers.

And here’s the thing: in a perfect feminist ideal, we’d reject this reality entirely. Maybe even show up to the boardroom in sweats and a messy bun as an act of defiance. However uncomfortable it is, this is the system we’re operating within. Ignoring it doesn’t dismantle it; it just limits our ability to fully navigate it.

Complicating things further, the line around what’s considered “acceptable” in the pursuit of pretty privilege is often drawn arbitrarily. For some, makeup is fine, but injectables cross a line. For others, injectables are routine, while plastic surgery is morally off-limits.

When the goalposts are this inconsistent, maybe it’s okay for us to start setting our own rules of the game.

The bottom line

If you’re building a budget for the "perfect version" of yourself (the version of you who never wants a fancy coffee and only buys generic brand cereal), you’re setting yourself up for failure.

Real financial stability doesn’t come from moralizing every purchase or squeezing joy out of your life in the name of optimization. It comes from honesty. From acknowledging who you actually are, what you actually value, and how you actually behave, and then building a system that works with that reality instead of constantly fighting it.

For me, that means Botox gets a line item. It’s accounted for. It doesn’t derail my goals or blow up my credit card balance every few months. It exists inside the plan, which is exactly where recurring expenses belong.

Build a budget for the real you. The you who wants the Botox. The you who loves bottomless brunches. Because a budget you can actually live with is the only one that will actually make you wealthy (and happy!) in the long run.