Until last month, I had never even heard of the new miracle anti-aging drug. But having learned that the FDA is about to approve something called Botox for cosmetic purposes, and that its use has already become the most popular cosmetic medical procedure in the country, I have to think that the baby boomer generation will go down in history as the most self-absorbed and delusional population ever to walk the earth. No generation before us has hunted for the illusory fountain of youth with such a gnawing sense of desperation. The older we boomers get, the more strenuously we try to deny age at any cost.

If you haven’t heard of Botox, you will soon. Once it’s approved as an anti-wrinkle agent, the company that makes the drug is expected to launch a multimillion-dollar blitz of TV commercials and print advertising that industry analysts predict will rival the hype over Viagra and Claritin.

“Wipe that frown off your face the Botox way!”

What makes the whole business so creepy, aside from the fact that senior citizens may soon have skin as smooth as a hard-boiled egg, is that these unnatural results will be achieved with a neurotoxin that causes botulism. That’s right, folks. The wonder toxin is injected directly into facial muscles. Over four days or so, the toxin paralyzes the muscles that control wrinkling. Not only does the stuff keep brow furrows and crow’s feet from forming, it erases the ones already there. Voila! Not only can we boomers dress like twentysomethings until we die, we can take our lovely unlined faces with us to the grave.

The only problem, however, is that when administered incorrectly, Botox can make strange things happen. According to a story in The New York Times, actors having their muscles numbed, at $300 a pop, can’t even produce the range of facial expressions their roles require. As in “The Stepford Wives” movie, there are pockets of people in the country where women over 35 have lost the ability to muster a genuine frown. Because their faces have been frozen into placid masks, they may look positively serene even as they’re giving someone the finger on the highway.

There’s also the potential for what some doctors call the Dorian Gray effect. Because the muscle paralysis is not permanent, periodic injections are required so that the face does not lapse into its normally wrinkled state. As one doctor told the Times, a man could marry a woman with a flawlessly smooth face and wind up, four months later, with a wife who “looks like a Shar-Pei” dog. Now that’s an unnerving thought. Maybe we should add an “undisclosed wrinkling” clause to our prenuptial agreements.

The saddest part of all, of course, is our increasing willingness to take every measure available to erase the tracks that prove we’ve been wandering this world for a while. Tummy tucks, silicone, liposuction, collagen, Rogaine – what’s the point of it all? Neurotoxins or not, time is going to win out in the end. It always has and always will, no matter how much we spend on miracle treatments that promise to make us youthful looking even as we grow old inside our ironed-out skins. Decreasing our wrinkles cannot increase our youth, and we’re fools to think otherwise. Rather than constantly waging war on the inevitable process, why can’t we just make peace with it at last and let nature run its course?

In generations past, back when people were allowed to age without shame, and botulism still meant food poisoning, smart folks found wisdom in the adage “You’re only as old as you feel.” Only the most self-absorbed boomers could actually believe that “You’re only as old as you look” means the same thing.

Tom Weber’s column appears Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday.