fantastic candidate for chin lipo,” , told me, as he tilted my face in his hand. His assessment made me cringe, but it also gave me hope.
After decades of fixating on my chin in every photo and reflective surface, I finally found a way to change it.I always had a double chin.
It looked like my dad’s; he calls it the “ol’ Griggs gobble gobble.” It didn’t bother me as a kid, but as I aged and increasingly saw myself—on social media, in selfies, and on Zoom—my chin became inescapable.
The constant comparison of my jowls with others’ starkly defined jawlines (and the guilt I felt that I didn’t love every single thing about my body) took over significant portions of my thoughts like some sort of brain-eating amoeba.In my late 20s, I started googling things like “how to get rid of double chin.” The internet suggested carb-cutting, repetitive exercises (like chewing gum), facial-sculpting tools, and body-positive journaling.