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Currently competing in the January endurance event, which is basically a long, cold personality test.

Anyone else doing January against their will?

Bring on the daylight, not falling on my arse on the ice, and that weird in-between bit before spring. Who’s with me?

Currently competing in the January endurance event, which is basically a long, cold personality test.

Anyone else doing January against their will?

Bring on the daylight, not falling on my arse on the ice, and that weird in-between bit before spring. Who’s with me?

Today in NYC started at 4am because I fell into bed early, completely battered after a long clinic day in a snowy Manhattan. Exhausting, but actually banging fun in its own (typically chaotic) Manhattan way.

I love working with my colleague surgeon, Dr Kevin. We’re very different personalities and somehow that’s exactly why it works. There’s no competition, no ego, no threat. We raise our kids very similarly, I love his family and they love mine, and we’re genuinely very lucky to have the working relationship we do. That kind of trust only comes with time, and after a decade of working all over the world together, we’ve slipped into an easy rhythm that makes even the longest days feel lighter.

Anyway. As usual, I’m drifting off topic. ADHD get back in your box.

When I woke up, I thought I’d try to catch up on my messages on IG, so I started going through the hundreds of DMs I’ve had since surgery. So many kind messages and questions. People remembering me from fifteen years ago when I had nothing. Others mentioning the paralysis, the setbacks, the difficult bits I don’t always talk about (but have started to!). And it stopped me in my tracks.

I realised I’ve actually built a lot in those 15 years as a single mother of kids that hadn’t even learned to walk yet, and what a huge and crushing responsibility it was. How sickeningly hard it all was at times.

It also made me think about how much emphasis there used to be on who you married. Especially when I was growing up. I’m in my mid fifties now, so I’m very aware of that narrative. The constant pressure to settle down, pair off, tick the box.

But the truth is,
I’ve become the person I was once told to marry.

I’ve built the stability, the independence, the resilience. And that changes everything.
Choosing a partner then comes from strength, not fear. From want, not need. And if someone doesn’t fit properly, you don’t force it just to feel safe.

I honestly cannot tell you what a difference that makes.

If there’s one lesson I’ll keep repeating to my daughters, it’s this.

Put yourself in a position where ALL your decisions come from strength, not fear.

Everything looks different from there.

Today in NYC started at 4am because I fell into bed early, completely battered after a long clinic day in a snowy Manhattan. Exhausting, but actually banging fun in its own (typically chaotic) Manhattan way.

I love working with my colleague surgeon, Dr Kevin. We’re very different personalities and somehow that’s exactly why it works. There’s no competition, no ego, no threat. We raise our kids very similarly, I love his family and they love mine, and we’re genuinely very lucky to have the working relationship we do. That kind of trust only comes with time, and after a decade of working all over the world together, we’ve slipped into an easy rhythm that makes even the longest days feel lighter.

Anyway. As usual, I’m drifting off topic. ADHD get back in your box.

When I woke up, I thought I’d try to catch up on my messages on IG, so I started going through the hundreds of DMs I’ve had since surgery. So many kind messages and questions. People remembering me from fifteen years ago when I had nothing. Others mentioning the paralysis, the setbacks, the difficult bits I don’t always talk about (but have started to!). And it stopped me in my tracks.

I realised I’ve actually built a lot in those 15 years as a single mother of kids that hadn’t even learned to walk yet, and what a huge and crushing responsibility it was. How sickeningly hard it all was at times.

It also made me think about how much emphasis there used to be on who you married. Especially when I was growing up. I’m in my mid fifties now, so I’m very aware of that narrative. The constant pressure to settle down, pair off, tick the box.

But the truth is,
I’ve become the person I was once told to marry.

I’ve built the stability, the independence, the resilience. And that changes everything.
Choosing a partner then comes from strength, not fear. From want, not need. And if someone doesn’t fit properly, you don’t force it just to feel safe.

I honestly cannot tell you what a difference that makes.

If there’s one lesson I’ll keep repeating to my daughters, it’s this.

Put yourself in a position where ALL your decisions come from strength, not fear.

Everything looks different from there.

t’s become an unfortunate but fairly accepted fact that if you want to see some of the worst examples of overfilled faces, reality TV is often where they show up.

Not because those people are foolish. Not because they deserve criticism. But because of timing, pressure, access, and resources.

Many reality stars were used to being the prettiest in their class, their town, their village. Then they’re dropped into a hyper-competitive environment full of beautiful people, harsh lighting, HD cameras, and constant comparison. Before they even go on screen, there’s pressure to “fix” things quickly. At that stage, they often don’t yet have the contacts or the budget to access the very best care. Speed matters more than planning.

Then fame hits. Free treatments start being offered. Of course they say yes. Most people would. But free work rarely comes from the most experienced or fully booked practitioners. Layer filler on top of filler, from different hands, with no long-term strategy, and balance is lost very quickly.

As people become more successful, gain better contacts, and have more resources, many try to undo it. They seek out better clinics, better advice, and more conservative approaches. It’s usually more expensive, more restrained, and far less dramatic, but it works.

We saw this early on with Molly-Mae Hague. She was overfilled, dissolved, reset, and now looks beautiful. Same with Faye Winter - but they’re outliers. That story is far more common than people realise.

This isn’t about judgement. It’s about understanding how easily it happens.
More filler does not equal more beauty.
And restraint rarely goes viral, but it always ages better.

t’s become an unfortunate but fairly accepted fact that if you want to see some of the worst examples of overfilled faces, reality TV is often where they show up.

Not because those people are foolish. Not because they deserve criticism. But because of timing, pressure, access, and resources.

Many reality stars were used to being the prettiest in their class, their town, their village. Then they’re dropped into a hyper-competitive environment full of beautiful people, harsh lighting, HD cameras, and constant comparison. Before they even go on screen, there’s pressure to “fix” things quickly. At that stage, they often don’t yet have the contacts or the budget to access the very best care. Speed matters more than planning.

Then fame hits. Free treatments start being offered. Of course they say yes. Most people would. But free work rarely comes from the most experienced or fully booked practitioners. Layer filler on top of filler, from different hands, with no long-term strategy, and balance is lost very quickly.

As people become more successful, gain better contacts, and have more resources, many try to undo it. They seek out better clinics, better advice, and more conservative approaches. It’s usually more expensive, more restrained, and far less dramatic, but it works.

We saw this early on with Molly-Mae Hague. She was overfilled, dissolved, reset, and now looks beautiful. Same with Faye Winter - but they’re outliers. That story is far more common than people realise.

This isn’t about judgement. It’s about understanding how easily it happens.
More filler does not equal more beauty.
And restraint rarely goes viral, but it always ages better.

I still maintain that Gen X is the best generation that ever walked the earth and I will happily fight anyone who says otherwise.

I remember my mum with a lacquered helmet perm, going grey early, looking 20 years older than she actually was, and quietly not enjoying it at all. There were rules then. Expectations. A very narrow version of what aging was supposed to look like.

I love that we do not have to do that.

We get to age however we want.
We get to look however we choose.
We get to evolve, opt in, opt out, reinvent, or stay exactly the same.

We were the last generation to remember a childhood without the internet. We learned how to be bored, resourceful, independent, and quietly resilient. We fixed things. We figured it out. We survived without Google, without tracking, without constant validation.

We do not melt easily.
Words do not break us.
And stupidity does not get a free pass.

Gen X raised ourselves.
And honestly, it shows.

I still maintain that Gen X is the best generation that ever walked the earth and I will happily fight anyone who says otherwise.

I remember my mum with a lacquered helmet perm, going grey early, looking 20 years older than she actually was, and quietly not enjoying it at all. There were rules then. Expectations. A very narrow version of what aging was supposed to look like.

I love that we do not have to do that.

We get to age however we want.
We get to look however we choose.
We get to evolve, opt in, opt out, reinvent, or stay exactly the same.

We were the last generation to remember a childhood without the internet. We learned how to be bored, resourceful, independent, and quietly resilient. We fixed things. We figured it out. We survived without Google, without tracking, without constant validation.

We do not melt easily.
Words do not break us.
And stupidity does not get a free pass.

Gen X raised ourselves.
And honestly, it shows.

If you decided to dissolve your lips, congratulations.
That was the hardest and smartest part.

Now for the bit nobody explains, or even understands.

If your injector dissolved them, refilled them… and the exact same thing happened again,
that is not “bad luck”.
That is the same person using the same products and the same techniques and expecting a different outcome.

Spoiler: it will not magically work for you and is the definition of insanity.

Russian lips migrate.
Needles migrate more than cannulas.
Too much product when the lips are already at capacity will migrate.
Some products migrate no matter how good you are.
Yes, we’ve tried. No, they’re still banned.

And no, you cannot dissolve on Monday and refill on Friday and be shocked when it migrates again.
If the skin has been stretched, it needs time, not optimism. There is no point in trying to correct tissue that has not yet stabilised. That’s greed and ignorance.

Refilling properly is boring.
Tiny amounts. Flat layers. Different products. Patience.
(Sometimes a lot of patience!)
Anyone promising “back to perfect in two weeks” is selling hope, not anatomy.

And yes, once lips have been stretched, the risk of migration is higher forever.
That means more caution, not more filler.

Anyway, enjoy this video of me explaining all of that
while also featuring my pre-facelift, slightly feral face with still healing Bells Palsy.
Because nothing says authority like teaching anatomy while your own face is doing something creative.🤣

This process is absolutely not for people who want short cuts. But we only live once, these are your golden years and it makes more sense to fix it and lay those proper foundations forever rather than wait until you wish you’d done it.

If you decided to dissolve your lips, congratulations.
That was the hardest and smartest part.

Now for the bit nobody explains, or even understands.

If your injector dissolved them, refilled them… and the exact same thing happened again,
that is not “bad luck”.
That is the same person using the same products and the same techniques and expecting a different outcome.

Spoiler: it will not magically work for you and is the definition of insanity.

Russian lips migrate.
Needles migrate more than cannulas.
Too much product when the lips are already at capacity will migrate.
Some products migrate no matter how good you are.
Yes, we’ve tried. No, they’re still banned.

And no, you cannot dissolve on Monday and refill on Friday and be shocked when it migrates again.
If the skin has been stretched, it needs time, not optimism. There is no point in trying to correct tissue that has not yet stabilised. That’s greed and ignorance.

Refilling properly is boring.
Tiny amounts. Flat layers. Different products. Patience.
(Sometimes a lot of patience!)
Anyone promising “back to perfect in two weeks” is selling hope, not anatomy.

And yes, once lips have been stretched, the risk of migration is higher forever.
That means more caution, not more filler.

Anyway, enjoy this video of me explaining all of that
while also featuring my pre-facelift, slightly feral face with still healing Bells Palsy.
Because nothing says authority like teaching anatomy while your own face is doing something creative.🤣

This process is absolutely not for people who want short cuts. But we only live once, these are your golden years and it makes more sense to fix it and lay those proper foundations forever rather than wait until you wish you’d done it.

Turns out time is not the hero of the story.
The magic room is.

Friends who laugh hard and enable bad ideas.
Mountains that wake you up and remind you your knees are not 25.
Coffee that is basically a personality trait.
Science that works.
Injectables that behave themselves.
Surgery done properly, not dramatically.

A few educated risks taken on purpose so I do not calcify into a beige version of myself.

Growth does not come from waiting politely.
It comes from stepping in, laughing loudly, and choosing better tools.

Turns out time is not the hero of the story.
The magic room is.

Friends who laugh hard and enable bad ideas.
Mountains that wake you up and remind you your knees are not 25.
Coffee that is basically a personality trait.
Science that works.
Injectables that behave themselves.
Surgery done properly, not dramatically.

A few educated risks taken on purpose so I do not calcify into a beige version of myself.

Growth does not come from waiting politely.
It comes from stepping in, laughing loudly, and choosing better tools.

The other day I did one of my regular Q&As and, for once, the question had nothing to do with surgery, skin, or aesthetics.

It was this: would I remarry?

I answered honestly. Not with malice. Not with bitterness. Just clarity.

That answer was shared over 600 times and saved repeatedly. So many women messaged to say they related to it more than some of my industry posts, which surprised me but also didn’t. It seemed to crystallise exactly what a lot of people are already thinking but rarely say out loud.

We live in 2026. Even the idea of automatically taking someone’s surname feels outdated to many of us. It did to me even the first time around. Once you’ve built a significant career, created financial security, and put money in the bank for your children, marriage can start to feel less like romance and more like a high-risk contract. No one ever truly knows how life will unfold.

I’m fairly sure the Beckhams didn’t anticipate their world being turned upside down either.

I’m not anti marriage. For some people it’s wonderful. I just genuinely don’t see the point of it for me, at this stage of life. That doesn’t mean I don’t value love, loyalty, commitment, or lasting bonds. I do. Very much. I just don’t believe they require paperwork to be real.

Maybe this conversation popped up because weddings are everywhere again. The Brooklyn Peltz Beckham dance seems to be living rent free in all our heads.

This reel has been reposted and requested so many times, so here it is again. Feel free to share it, save it, send it to a friend, or disagree politely in the comments.

What do you think. Is marriage evolving, or simply no longer necessary for some of us?

The other day I did one of my regular Q&As and, for once, the question had nothing to do with surgery, skin, or aesthetics.

It was this: would I remarry?

I answered honestly. Not with malice. Not with bitterness. Just clarity.

That answer was shared over 600 times and saved repeatedly. So many women messaged to say they related to it more than some of my industry posts, which surprised me but also didn’t. It seemed to crystallise exactly what a lot of people are already thinking but rarely say out loud.

We live in 2026. Even the idea of automatically taking someone’s surname feels outdated to many of us. It did to me even the first time around. Once you’ve built a significant career, created financial security, and put money in the bank for your children, marriage can start to feel less like romance and more like a high-risk contract. No one ever truly knows how life will unfold.

I’m fairly sure the Beckhams didn’t anticipate their world being turned upside down either.

I’m not anti marriage. For some people it’s wonderful. I just genuinely don’t see the point of it for me, at this stage of life. That doesn’t mean I don’t value love, loyalty, commitment, or lasting bonds. I do. Very much. I just don’t believe they require paperwork to be real.

Maybe this conversation popped up because weddings are everywhere again. The Brooklyn Peltz Beckham dance seems to be living rent free in all our heads.

This reel has been reposted and requested so many times, so here it is again. Feel free to share it, save it, send it to a friend, or disagree politely in the comments.

What do you think. Is marriage evolving, or simply no longer necessary for some of us?

Two weeks today, my decision to get me back finally came into fruition with a full face and neck lift plus laser.

I was asked today if I regret it in any way.

The only thing I regret is not doing it sooner.

Like a lot of women, and especially as a parent, I spent years justifying why I shouldn’t. The money should go on the house. Or the kids. Or supporting friends. Or literally anything other than myself. There’s always a reason for women to put themselves last, isn’t there?

Then there was a photo. Actually, a video. Me, waiting to board a flight to Paris. I’m holding it up in the first slide. I’ll have the courage to show you the full horror story at some stage. But honestly, I didn’t recognise myself. I wasn’t being dramatic. I was genuinely horrified. Like catching your reflection in a shop window and thinking, who is that and why does she look so tired?

That was the moment I decided this was for me.

I’d had a few tough years and I was sick of looking in the mirror at someone who felt unfamiliar. This carousel is a little timeline of firsts since then. First time going out in public. First photos with no makeup or filters. Gentle exercise. Talking to camera for work as usual. Answering questions. Even getting dressed and going out at day eleven, which felt slightly rebellious.

The best part? I had a patient in today from Panama who’d been offline and didn’t even know I’d had surgery. She didn’t say a word about it. She just said I looked well.

That’s it. That’s the goal.

Sometimes you just have to grab life by the balls. We’re not getting any younger. I’d much rather look and feel better now than wait until I’m really old and apologising for wanting it.

Personal growth is abrasive. Like sandpaper. See slide four

Do I wish I’d done it sooner? Absolutely.
Has it been perfect? No.
Have there been tricky bits? Of course.
Have I weirdly enjoyed the process? Also yes.

And I cannot wait to see what I look like when even more swelling goes down.

Two weeks today, my decision to get me back finally came into fruition with a full face and neck lift plus laser.

I was asked today if I regret it in any way.

The only thing I regret is not doing it sooner.

Like a lot of women, and especially as a parent, I spent years justifying why I shouldn’t. The money should go on the house. Or the kids. Or supporting friends. Or literally anything other than myself. There’s always a reason for women to put themselves last, isn’t there?

Then there was a photo. Actually, a video. Me, waiting to board a flight to Paris. I’m holding it up in the first slide. I’ll have the courage to show you the full horror story at some stage. But honestly, I didn’t recognise myself. I wasn’t being dramatic. I was genuinely horrified. Like catching your reflection in a shop window and thinking, who is that and why does she look so tired?

That was the moment I decided this was for me.

I’d had a few tough years and I was sick of looking in the mirror at someone who felt unfamiliar. This carousel is a little timeline of firsts since then. First time going out in public. First photos with no makeup or filters. Gentle exercise. Talking to camera for work as usual. Answering questions. Even getting dressed and going out at day eleven, which felt slightly rebellious.

The best part? I had a patient in today from Panama who’d been offline and didn’t even know I’d had surgery. She didn’t say a word about it. She just said I looked well.

That’s it. That’s the goal.

Sometimes you just have to grab life by the balls. We’re not getting any younger. I’d much rather look and feel better now than wait until I’m really old and apologising for wanting it.

Personal growth is abrasive. Like sandpaper. See slide four

Do I wish I’d done it sooner? Absolutely.
Has it been perfect? No.
Have there been tricky bits? Of course.
Have I weirdly enjoyed the process? Also yes.

And I cannot wait to see what I look like when even more swelling goes down.

Lips are one of the hardest structures to treat. No question.

There’s this idea that once you hit a certain age, lip filler is pointless. And look, I do agree with part of that. Obvious, augmented, sausage-adjacent lips on a mature face are jarring. They fight the rest of the face and usually make everything look worse, not better. I’ve personally never seen clearly filled older lips and thought “wow, stunning”. I don’t think I’m alone there.

BUT… that’s not the same as saying you should just give up on lips altogether. What most people actually mean is if it’s going to look obvious, don’t do it. And that is absolutely true.

With age, the margin for error gets tiny. Like microscopic. But tiny amounts of very soft filler, placed properly, can still be beneficial. You’re not chasing volume. You’re chasing subtle definition, a hint of philtral column support, and a softer, more rested lip appearance. Hydration is modest, expectations need to be realistic, and no, your lips are not going to look 20 again.

Will they look natural, undetectable and softer? Will it soften those smokers lines around your mouth? Yes to both, with the right expertise and experience.

Think refinement, not “who did your lips?”.

Never underestimate the power of a whisper of hydration and definition.

Tiny quantities. Big difference.

Lips are one of the hardest structures to treat. No question.

There’s this idea that once you hit a certain age, lip filler is pointless. And look, I do agree with part of that. Obvious, augmented, sausage-adjacent lips on a mature face are jarring. They fight the rest of the face and usually make everything look worse, not better. I’ve personally never seen clearly filled older lips and thought “wow, stunning”. I don’t think I’m alone there.

BUT… that’s not the same as saying you should just give up on lips altogether. What most people actually mean is if it’s going to look obvious, don’t do it. And that is absolutely true.

With age, the margin for error gets tiny. Like microscopic. But tiny amounts of very soft filler, placed properly, can still be beneficial. You’re not chasing volume. You’re chasing subtle definition, a hint of philtral column support, and a softer, more rested lip appearance. Hydration is modest, expectations need to be realistic, and no, your lips are not going to look 20 again.

Will they look natural, undetectable and softer? Will it soften those smokers lines around your mouth? Yes to both, with the right expertise and experience.

Think refinement, not “who did your lips?”.

Never underestimate the power of a whisper of hydration and definition.

Tiny quantities. Big difference.

There is a narrative doing the rounds that people who choose surgery must hate themselves, lack confidence, or need therapy. That is lazy psychology from people who are not qualified to diagnose anyone.

I have just had a full face and neck lift with an exceptionally experienced, safety first surgeon. I am 11 to 12 days out. I have healed ridiculously well. I have facial paralysis, my eye will never be quite the same, I still cannot blow dry my hair properly, and yet I feel more comfortable in my own skin than I have in years.

This was not about self hatred. It was the opposite.

For many people, aesthetic treatment or surgery is about reclaiming identity, not escaping it. It is about alignment. About looking in the mirror and recognising yourself again, especially after illness, paralysis, ageing, trauma, or simply time doing what time does.

We do not medicalise people for dyeing their hair, straightening their teeth, training their bodies, wearing makeup, or choosing clothes that make them feel confident. We do not accuse them of being deranged or broken. Yet somehow surgery invites moral judgement from people with no clinical training and no understanding of nuance.

Agency matters. Choice matters. Informed, ethical, safe medicine matters.

What does not matter is an internet stranger projecting their own discomfort onto other people’s decisions and calling it insight.

Confidence is not refusing change. Confidence is choosing what is right for you and standing by it.

And just to be clear, feeling happier, calmer and more at ease in your own face is not pathology. It is the point.

If that makes some people uncomfortable, that is theirs to unpack. Not mine.

There is a narrative doing the rounds that people who choose surgery must hate themselves, lack confidence, or need therapy. That is lazy psychology from people who are not qualified to diagnose anyone.

I have just had a full face and neck lift with an exceptionally experienced, safety first surgeon. I am 11 to 12 days out. I have healed ridiculously well. I have facial paralysis, my eye will never be quite the same, I still cannot blow dry my hair properly, and yet I feel more comfortable in my own skin than I have in years.

This was not about self hatred. It was the opposite.

For many people, aesthetic treatment or surgery is about reclaiming identity, not escaping it. It is about alignment. About looking in the mirror and recognising yourself again, especially after illness, paralysis, ageing, trauma, or simply time doing what time does.

We do not medicalise people for dyeing their hair, straightening their teeth, training their bodies, wearing makeup, or choosing clothes that make them feel confident. We do not accuse them of being deranged or broken. Yet somehow surgery invites moral judgement from people with no clinical training and no understanding of nuance.

Agency matters. Choice matters. Informed, ethical, safe medicine matters.

What does not matter is an internet stranger projecting their own discomfort onto other people’s decisions and calling it insight.

Confidence is not refusing change. Confidence is choosing what is right for you and standing by it.

And just to be clear, feeling happier, calmer and more at ease in your own face is not pathology. It is the point.

If that makes some people uncomfortable, that is theirs to unpack. Not mine.

There’s nothing more satisfying and humbling than a celebrity who corrects bad work in the public eye.

A few years ago we received hundreds of messages asking, “What on earth has happened to Madonna’s face?”

Madonna has never been associated with weight gain. Quite the opposite. She’s famous for being relentlessly fit, disciplined, and metabolically allergic to sitting still. So when her face appeared to dramatically change shape, people understandably went hunting for explanations.

Yes, it was well documented that she had a hip replacement. And yes, reduced exercise can alter metabolism. But her body still looked slim while her face looked structurally different. That mismatch is often the giveaway.

Everyone assumed filler. But you cannot build a face like that with filler and have it look that even. Filler in large volumes behaves like over whipped cream. It lumps, it migrates, it tells on you. Fat behaves differently. It’s smoother, more uniform, and when overdone can completely override someone’s natural facial architecture.

Our educated guess was fat transfer. Probably well intentioned, but not particularly sympathetic to her natural features. She lost her identity.

Fast forward and she looks phenomenal. Almost offensively good for someone in her seventies. But what’s most satisfying for us, isn’t the result, it’s the course correction.

Seeing someone quietly decide, “This isn’t me,” and reverse it takes confidence. Demi Moore did the same. No apology tour. No explanation. Just a re emergence that says, this feels like me again. We love this for her. It’s a great educational point for our industry and lay people not understanding what happened, I can’t lie.

Hollywood can be feral when people age “wrong”. But it’s beautiful when someone chooses familiarity over novelty and stops chasing an identity that doesn’t fit. I love natural looking faces ❤️

One life. One face. One body. Whether you age naturally, tweak gently, reverse things entirely, or do absolutely nothing at all, make sure it’s yours.

Crap in your face is optional.
Caring what everyone thinks is even more so.
Bravo M ❤️

There’s nothing more satisfying and humbling than a celebrity who corrects bad work in the public eye.

A few years ago we received hundreds of messages asking, “What on earth has happened to Madonna’s face?”

Madonna has never been associated with weight gain. Quite the opposite. She’s famous for being relentlessly fit, disciplined, and metabolically allergic to sitting still. So when her face appeared to dramatically change shape, people understandably went hunting for explanations.

Yes, it was well documented that she had a hip replacement. And yes, reduced exercise can alter metabolism. But her body still looked slim while her face looked structurally different. That mismatch is often the giveaway.

Everyone assumed filler. But you cannot build a face like that with filler and have it look that even. Filler in large volumes behaves like over whipped cream. It lumps, it migrates, it tells on you. Fat behaves differently. It’s smoother, more uniform, and when overdone can completely override someone’s natural facial architecture.

Our educated guess was fat transfer. Probably well intentioned, but not particularly sympathetic to her natural features. She lost her identity.

Fast forward and she looks phenomenal. Almost offensively good for someone in her seventies. But what’s most satisfying for us, isn’t the result, it’s the course correction.

Seeing someone quietly decide, “This isn’t me,” and reverse it takes confidence. Demi Moore did the same. No apology tour. No explanation. Just a re emergence that says, this feels like me again. We love this for her. It’s a great educational point for our industry and lay people not understanding what happened, I can’t lie.

Hollywood can be feral when people age “wrong”. But it’s beautiful when someone chooses familiarity over novelty and stops chasing an identity that doesn’t fit. I love natural looking faces ❤️

One life. One face. One body. Whether you age naturally, tweak gently, reverse things entirely, or do absolutely nothing at all, make sure it’s yours.

Crap in your face is optional.
Caring what everyone thinks is even more so.
Bravo M ❤️

Or maybe I am only saying this because my 2016 face was a beta version. This message brought to you by someone who survived 2016 plasma pen, early filler enthusiasm, a thing for brightly coloured jeans, and a phone camera that did not love upside down middle-aged women.

Or maybe I am only saying this because my 2016 face was a beta version. This message brought to you by someone who survived 2016 plasma pen, early filler enthusiasm, a thing for brightly coloured jeans, and a phone camera that did not love upside down middle-aged women.

I cannot believe all of this happened in seven days.

Seven days ago I was genuinely unrecognisable. Today I look human again. Undetectably reconstructed. And somehow still myself.

In the last week I have in all seriousness :

• Been stranded for nine hours in a blizzard in an electric car with five minutes of charge left
• Been flambéed, dissected and politely put back together again
• Been soaked in vinegar and I am beginning to sound like a recipe
• Learnt how to eat again by posting thin, soft food through my lips like a letterbox
• Started walking miles every single day & mourned the gym
• Been intensely committed to getting better quickly
• Stuck rigidly to a low salicylate diet
• Had my stitches removed
• Travelled up and down the country twice
• Run a business
• taken care of two children

The last week feels like a Netflix miniseries I accidentally starred in.

What’s surprised me most is how much control one actually has over recovery. If I hadn’t posted daily, people simply wouldn’t believe how quickly this has healed. The days of walking around bandaged for weeks are absolutely gone. Of course everyone is different and surgeon choice matters, but in my case every box was ticked. By Dr Dominic Bray and his team, and by me too. That kind of doctor and patient collaboration is where the magic happens, and I genuinely feel that’s what’s happened here.

There have also been the burning sensations, how yawning is an extreme sport, and the little zaps of electricity that elicit yelps, looking slightly more feral than I already did.

As mad as this sounds, I have genuinely enjoyed every single day of it. I stopped pain meds after a couple of days because I didn’t need them. It’s only been one week and so much has already happened.

Even my blink feels quicker now. Less effort. Less resistance. Muscles no longer working overtime. Small things, but fascinating ones.

I’ve been overwhelmed by your interest in facelift reality. The crusting, the sutures, the burning sensations, every unglamorous detail, patients actually go through. Zero kickback, zero affiliation, just transparency as always.

I’m so excited for phase II! Are you with me??

I cannot believe all of this happened in seven days.

Seven days ago I was genuinely unrecognisable. Today I look human again. Undetectably reconstructed. And somehow still myself.

In the last week I have in all seriousness :

• Been stranded for nine hours in a blizzard in an electric car with five minutes of charge left
• Been flambéed, dissected and politely put back together again
• Been soaked in vinegar and I am beginning to sound like a recipe
• Learnt how to eat again by posting thin, soft food through my lips like a letterbox
• Started walking miles every single day & mourned the gym
• Been intensely committed to getting better quickly
• Stuck rigidly to a low salicylate diet
• Had my stitches removed
• Travelled up and down the country twice
• Run a business
• taken care of two children

The last week feels like a Netflix miniseries I accidentally starred in.

What’s surprised me most is how much control one actually has over recovery. If I hadn’t posted daily, people simply wouldn’t believe how quickly this has healed. The days of walking around bandaged for weeks are absolutely gone. Of course everyone is different and surgeon choice matters, but in my case every box was ticked. By Dr Dominic Bray and his team, and by me too. That kind of doctor and patient collaboration is where the magic happens, and I genuinely feel that’s what’s happened here.

There have also been the burning sensations, how yawning is an extreme sport, and the little zaps of electricity that elicit yelps, looking slightly more feral than I already did.

As mad as this sounds, I have genuinely enjoyed every single day of it. I stopped pain meds after a couple of days because I didn’t need them. It’s only been one week and so much has already happened.

Even my blink feels quicker now. Less effort. Less resistance. Muscles no longer working overtime. Small things, but fascinating ones.

I’ve been overwhelmed by your interest in facelift reality. The crusting, the sutures, the burning sensations, every unglamorous detail, patients actually go through. Zero kickback, zero affiliation, just transparency as always.

I’m so excited for phase II! Are you with me??

“For your age” is the most socially acceptable insult we still allow. A compliment that needs a footnote is just an insult in nicer clothes.

I stitched this because Dame Helen Mirren nailed it.

“You look good for your age” is the social equivalent of someone saying,
“Gosh, you’ve got such a gorgeous body… you barely notice you have no boobs .”
Or, “For a heavy girl, you’ve actually got such a pretty face.”
Or, “I’m pleasantly surprised to see you’re exceptionally erudite.”

It’s a compliment with a snake bite at the end.
Smile first. Blow dart second.

Most women spend their teens, 20s and 30s being openly objectified. Then the compliments do not disappear, they just become conditional. Age-qualified. As if you should be grateful you’re still being noticed at all.

And let’s be clear. This is not really about youth. Moreover, it is not even gender specific.

I am stronger and fitter than a lot of people significantly younger than me. I regularly sit next to women, (and men!) in my gym who are 20 years younger and lift, push, and pull less than I do.

Fact. Strength, capability, and presence do not have an expiry date.

No woman wants to be told they look “good for their age”

Better yet, just say:
“You look fucking amazing.”
“I love seeing you looking super happy and confident.”
“You are so bad ass/ killing it!!!”

My surgery or injectables was never about chasing youth.

That would be a little bit weird, at 54. It was about familiarity. Feeling comfortable faced with a reflection and the outside finally reflecting the inside again. Anyone who’s lived long enough, or experienced enough will understand that instinct immediately.

And finally, thank you. Truly.
Your messages for me dumping surgery process all over you asses - have been overwhelming supportive and kind.
And not one of you attached my worth to my age or my paralysis.

Thank you ❤️

“For your age” is the most socially acceptable insult we still allow. A compliment that needs a footnote is just an insult in nicer clothes.

I stitched this because Dame Helen Mirren nailed it.

“You look good for your age” is the social equivalent of someone saying,
“Gosh, you’ve got such a gorgeous body… you barely notice you have no boobs .”
Or, “For a heavy girl, you’ve actually got such a pretty face.”
Or, “I’m pleasantly surprised to see you’re exceptionally erudite.”

It’s a compliment with a snake bite at the end.
Smile first. Blow dart second.

Most women spend their teens, 20s and 30s being openly objectified. Then the compliments do not disappear, they just become conditional. Age-qualified. As if you should be grateful you’re still being noticed at all.

And let’s be clear. This is not really about youth. Moreover, it is not even gender specific.

I am stronger and fitter than a lot of people significantly younger than me. I regularly sit next to women, (and men!) in my gym who are 20 years younger and lift, push, and pull less than I do.

Fact. Strength, capability, and presence do not have an expiry date.

No woman wants to be told they look “good for their age”

Better yet, just say:
“You look fucking amazing.”
“I love seeing you looking super happy and confident.”
“You are so bad ass/ killing it!!!”

My surgery or injectables was never about chasing youth.

That would be a little bit weird, at 54. It was about familiarity. Feeling comfortable faced with a reflection and the outside finally reflecting the inside again. Anyone who’s lived long enough, or experienced enough will understand that instinct immediately.

And finally, thank you. Truly.
Your messages for me dumping surgery process all over you asses - have been overwhelming supportive and kind.
And not one of you attached my worth to my age or my paralysis.

Thank you ❤️

It’s genuinely hard to believe that just seven days ago my face looked about ten years older. Which is ironic, considering I once aged overnight thanks to sudden facial paralysis. Life really said “balance, but make it chaotic”.

What’s wild is how quickly your brain adapts. One minute you’re hiding under a baseball cap, avoiding eye contact like you owe people money. Next minute you’re a fully self-absorbed teenager again and every reflective surface has become a mirror. Shop windows. Car doors. Kettles. I am basically haunting myself. I’ve even caught myself hanging over upside down on my phone camera. I’m basically just showing off at this point. What middle-aged woman in her right mind does that? One who’s recently had a serving of expert facial cosmetic surgery. That’s who.

Today I went to see Azara to have my temple stitches removed by Dr Dominic Bray and Dr Daniel and honestly, it already feels a bit like home. I am still very swollen. Yawning has moved from casual human function to extreme sport. There are tiny things I keep forgetting I cannot do yet. AirPods Max over the ears? Absolutely not. Sunglasses? Don’t even try. Lip balm rubbed on and lips smacked together will elicit little puppy-like yelps of pain because your face is too tight to stretch that far.

But every single day I can see a new shape emerging. There’s a glow starting to appear. I can begin manual lymphatic drainage this week, the stitches are finally out, and the itching has dropped by at least fifty percent just from that alone. Small wins feel enormous right now.

And honestly, at this age, it’s not about vanity. It’s about recognition. You look at your face and suddenly remember what it used to look like. That is a gift you cannot explain until you experience it. Every morning I wake up, grab my phone like it’s a mirror, and look. Because every morning, a little more of me is revealed.

Life is sweet. Swollen. Slightly surreal . But sweet.

It’s genuinely hard to believe that just seven days ago my face looked about ten years older. Which is ironic, considering I once aged overnight thanks to sudden facial paralysis. Life really said “balance, but make it chaotic”.

What’s wild is how quickly your brain adapts. One minute you’re hiding under a baseball cap, avoiding eye contact like you owe people money. Next minute you’re a fully self-absorbed teenager again and every reflective surface has become a mirror. Shop windows. Car doors. Kettles. I am basically haunting myself. I’ve even caught myself hanging over upside down on my phone camera. I’m basically just showing off at this point. What middle-aged woman in her right mind does that? One who’s recently had a serving of expert facial cosmetic surgery. That’s who.

Today I went to see Azara to have my temple stitches removed by Dr Dominic Bray and Dr Daniel and honestly, it already feels a bit like home. I am still very swollen. Yawning has moved from casual human function to extreme sport. There are tiny things I keep forgetting I cannot do yet. AirPods Max over the ears? Absolutely not. Sunglasses? Don’t even try. Lip balm rubbed on and lips smacked together will elicit little puppy-like yelps of pain because your face is too tight to stretch that far.

But every single day I can see a new shape emerging. There’s a glow starting to appear. I can begin manual lymphatic drainage this week, the stitches are finally out, and the itching has dropped by at least fifty percent just from that alone. Small wins feel enormous right now.

And honestly, at this age, it’s not about vanity. It’s about recognition. You look at your face and suddenly remember what it used to look like. That is a gift you cannot explain until you experience it. Every morning I wake up, grab my phone like it’s a mirror, and look. Because every morning, a little more of me is revealed.

Life is sweet. Swollen. Slightly surreal . But sweet.

As promised, it’s been six days since my face was professionally rearranged and I’m back with an update. I did worry about facelift story fatigue, but judging by my DMs, you’re all still very much awake and asking for the unfiltered version.

If someone’s happy to show you the glow up, the reveal and the soft lighting, it’s only fair you also see the swollen bits, the bumpy bits, and the phase where your face briefly loses all definition and self respect. So many of you have messaged saying you’ve got facelifts coming up, you’re considering one, or you just want to see what healing actually looks like in real life.

Honest review. This has been less dramatic than a really bad cold. Not painful, just tight. Eating is strategic for a few days. Sneezing and yawning feel illegal. Occasionally I’ll try to move my face normally and let out a small yelp as my muscles remind me, not yet love, behave.

The hardest parts are boredom and the in between era. Too healed to hide, not healed enough for society. I did manage a two hour walk today and emerged feeling reborn, slightly puffy, but spiritually unstoppable.

And yes, the felt bolsters. The little fabric horns living in my hair. They’re meant to be there. They protect the incisions, reduce swelling and quietly hold everything exactly where it should be while healing happens. Not cute. Very effective.

On my way to London now and if DB clears it, sutures and my horn era will be gone by tomorrow afternoon.

No mystery. No gatekeeping. Just healing.

PS Although the Hyperlapse on her makes it look like I’m being very rough with my hair, I was actually using only my fingertips and being baby gentle!

As promised, it’s been six days since my face was professionally rearranged and I’m back with an update. I did worry about facelift story fatigue, but judging by my DMs, you’re all still very much awake and asking for the unfiltered version.

If someone’s happy to show you the glow up, the reveal and the soft lighting, it’s only fair you also see the swollen bits, the bumpy bits, and the phase where your face briefly loses all definition and self respect. So many of you have messaged saying you’ve got facelifts coming up, you’re considering one, or you just want to see what healing actually looks like in real life.

Honest review. This has been less dramatic than a really bad cold. Not painful, just tight. Eating is strategic for a few days. Sneezing and yawning feel illegal. Occasionally I’ll try to move my face normally and let out a small yelp as my muscles remind me, not yet love, behave.

The hardest parts are boredom and the in between era. Too healed to hide, not healed enough for society. I did manage a two hour walk today and emerged feeling reborn, slightly puffy, but spiritually unstoppable.

And yes, the felt bolsters. The little fabric horns living in my hair. They’re meant to be there. They protect the incisions, reduce swelling and quietly hold everything exactly where it should be while healing happens. Not cute. Very effective.

On my way to London now and if DB clears it, sutures and my horn era will be gone by tomorrow afternoon.

No mystery. No gatekeeping. Just healing.

PS Although the Hyperlapse on her makes it look like I’m being very rough with my hair, I was actually using only my fingertips and being baby gentle!

Everyone is talking about how incredible Kris Jenner looks at 70 and honestly, she does. Truly remarkable.

But let’s just pause for a moment, because a lot of people genuinely believe those images are simply how she looks day to day. They’re not. And that’s not shade, it’s reality.

Those images are curated. Styled. Professionally lit within an inch of their life. Hair, makeup, lashes, angles, editing, teams. It is not what any of us look like in real life, including me.

Which is exactly why, as many of you know, I’ve recently had a face and neck lift plus laser resurfacing and have shown my recovery completely unfiltered, daily, swollen, bumpy, and frankly not pretty. Because this is what real life looks like behind the images.

Many people at the very top have unfettered access to treatments, world-class clinicians, time to heal, and yes, an unfair advantage. And even with all of that, the final image is still polished further.

This isn’t about judgement. It’s about honesty. Celebrating what’s possible while understanding the context. Admiring the outcome without comparing your reality to someone else’s highlight reel.

You are always enough. Even without the lighting

Everyone is talking about how incredible Kris Jenner looks at 70 and honestly, she does. Truly remarkable.

But let’s just pause for a moment, because a lot of people genuinely believe those images are simply how she looks day to day. They’re not. And that’s not shade, it’s reality.

Those images are curated. Styled. Professionally lit within an inch of their life. Hair, makeup, lashes, angles, editing, teams. It is not what any of us look like in real life, including me.

Which is exactly why, as many of you know, I’ve recently had a face and neck lift plus laser resurfacing and have shown my recovery completely unfiltered, daily, swollen, bumpy, and frankly not pretty. Because this is what real life looks like behind the images.

Many people at the very top have unfettered access to treatments, world-class clinicians, time to heal, and yes, an unfair advantage. And even with all of that, the final image is still polished further.

This isn’t about judgement. It’s about honesty. Celebrating what’s possible while understanding the context. Admiring the outcome without comparing your reality to someone else’s highlight reel.

You are always enough. Even without the lighting

Four days ago Dr Dominic Bray had me lean forward over the camera while he crouched on the floor in his consulting room, and took what can only be described as brutal “before” photos. Not posed. Not curated. Very much the same energy as an horrific accidental video I once took of myself, (the one that quietly made me consider treatment in the first place). The kind of angle where gravity does its absolute worst, everything looks flappy, and mildly feral. In fact, I’m so honest about the process - that I’ve actually included that awful picture towards the end of this video. Brace yourself.

So many people told me I didn’t need a facelift. That I looked good already. But this was never about attractiveness or chasing a standard. It was about identity.

Over the last year, facial paralysis changed my face in ways I couldn’t unsee. Asymmetry where there had never been any. Muscles on one side pulling constantly to compensate for the paralysed right side. Creases, folds and lines appearing out of nowhere. I didn’t JUST look older. I looked like someone else.

This is only four days since a full surgical reworking of my face, neck and skin in Tunbridge Wells.

Yes, I’m swollen. Yes, I’m bumpy. My face has entered its topographical map phase. Texture is doing things I didn’t personally author and inflammation is driving the bus right now.

Yes, the anterior cheek is being dramatic. But today, I’m did *that thing* that once filled me with dread, hanging over the phone camera again, and I actually let out a small shriek of joy.

Everyone gets to choose what they do with their face. This was my choice. (PS I’ve got an even worse video saved for later, when everything has settled and the full story can be told).

Formerly afraid of gravity. Now mildly disrespecting it. Tight face. Questionable posture. No fear. And a flick of the Vs to my front camera.

Four days ago Dr Dominic Bray had me lean forward over the camera while he crouched on the floor in his consulting room, and took what can only be described as brutal “before” photos. Not posed. Not curated. Very much the same energy as an horrific accidental video I once took of myself, (the one that quietly made me consider treatment in the first place). The kind of angle where gravity does its absolute worst, everything looks flappy, and mildly feral. In fact, I’m so honest about the process - that I’ve actually included that awful picture towards the end of this video. Brace yourself.

So many people told me I didn’t need a facelift. That I looked good already. But this was never about attractiveness or chasing a standard. It was about identity.

Over the last year, facial paralysis changed my face in ways I couldn’t unsee. Asymmetry where there had never been any. Muscles on one side pulling constantly to compensate for the paralysed right side. Creases, folds and lines appearing out of nowhere. I didn’t JUST look older. I looked like someone else.

This is only four days since a full surgical reworking of my face, neck and skin in Tunbridge Wells.

Yes, I’m swollen. Yes, I’m bumpy. My face has entered its topographical map phase. Texture is doing things I didn’t personally author and inflammation is driving the bus right now.

Yes, the anterior cheek is being dramatic. But today, I’m did *that thing* that once filled me with dread, hanging over the phone camera again, and I actually let out a small shriek of joy.

Everyone gets to choose what they do with their face. This was my choice. (PS I’ve got an even worse video saved for later, when everything has settled and the full story can be told).

Formerly afraid of gravity. Now mildly disrespecting it. Tight face. Questionable posture. No fear. And a flick of the Vs to my front camera.

Three days post having my face professionally rearranged.
Yes, by the very talented @drdominicbray.

No, I do not regret it.
Yes, I currently look unwell-adjacent.

If I’m honest, this has been relatively easy for me and that’s for a few reasons:

1. I knew exactly what I was signing up for.
Inside knowledge matters. This is not a mystery box procedure. Swelling, heat, bruising, weird textures and temporary insanity are all part of the deal.

2. A positive attitude is not woo-woo.
It genuinely helps. Panic fuels inflammation. Calm helps healing. Cheesy but true.

3. Settling time is everything.
You will look unhinged for a while. Plan for it.

The patients who spiral the most are the ones with a hard deadline. Weddings, launches, renovations, reunions. Do not do this last minute and then act shocked.

Give yourself space. Real space. Hide-if-needed space.

Yes, that was real footage of my friend harvesting snow to ice my face because cars are hot and freshly operated faces do not enjoy that. This is not glamour. This is logistics. I did what I needed to do, and we had a laugh doing it.

These tips might help you. They might not. But pretending recovery is instant and elegant is a lie and I refuse to sell it.

For context, I went all in. Full face lift, neck lift, and fully ablative laser. I’d had a year of ill health, and looking like a dropped pie - and I was so ready. One trip. No dabbling. Results do not happen overnight and anyone telling you otherwise is lying to your face. Ironically.

Ask me anything. I’ll always be honest. I’ll always be transparent.

And yes, it’s good to post the feral bits too.

Lastly - never let ANYONE judge you for a choice to have surgery (or indeed to age).. There is no moral high ground in ageing. There is only choice. Surgery, skincare, acceptance, or a mix of all three. The goal isn’t approval. It’s alignment with yourself. If you’re happy, you’re doing it right.

That’s why the last two slides are my favourite. They remind me that there’s no right way to age, only the way that feels right to you.

Three days post having my face professionally rearranged.
Yes, by the very talented @drdominicbray.

No, I do not regret it.
Yes, I currently look unwell-adjacent.

If I’m honest, this has been relatively easy for me and that’s for a few reasons:

1. I knew exactly what I was signing up for.
Inside knowledge matters. This is not a mystery box procedure. Swelling, heat, bruising, weird textures and temporary insanity are all part of the deal.

2. A positive attitude is not woo-woo.
It genuinely helps. Panic fuels inflammation. Calm helps healing. Cheesy but true.

3. Settling time is everything.
You will look unhinged for a while. Plan for it.

The patients who spiral the most are the ones with a hard deadline. Weddings, launches, renovations, reunions. Do not do this last minute and then act shocked.

Give yourself space. Real space. Hide-if-needed space.

Yes, that was real footage of my friend harvesting snow to ice my face because cars are hot and freshly operated faces do not enjoy that. This is not glamour. This is logistics. I did what I needed to do, and we had a laugh doing it.

These tips might help you. They might not. But pretending recovery is instant and elegant is a lie and I refuse to sell it.

For context, I went all in. Full face lift, neck lift, and fully ablative laser. I’d had a year of ill health, and looking like a dropped pie - and I was so ready. One trip. No dabbling. Results do not happen overnight and anyone telling you otherwise is lying to your face. Ironically.

Ask me anything. I’ll always be honest. I’ll always be transparent.

And yes, it’s good to post the feral bits too.

Lastly - never let ANYONE judge you for a choice to have surgery (or indeed to age).. There is no moral high ground in ageing. There is only choice. Surgery, skincare, acceptance, or a mix of all three. The goal isn’t approval. It’s alignment with yourself. If you’re happy, you’re doing it right.

That’s why the last two slides are my favourite. They remind me that there’s no right way to age, only the way that feels right to you.

Five years on… watch what happens.
Yes, she’s actually 50.
That’s what top level expert filler does.

The best filler in the world doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t sit heavy, puff faces up, or scream “work done”. It integrates, supports, and quietly refines over time. When it’s the right product, placed in the right increments, in the right planes, and only where it’s genuinely needed, it doesn’t age you, it does the opposite.

This wasn’t one appointment. It was thoughtful, gradual work. We remodelled a very small chin, which completely changed her balance, and carefully treated the jawline, midface, nose, and forehead. No rushing. No overcorrection. Just anatomy, restraint, and experience.

People love to say filler always looks bad.
If that were true, this wouldn’t exist.

This is five years later.
Still smooth. Still undetectable.
Still just her, but better supported.

And that is the difference between crap, non medical filler that doesn’t respect the anatomy and the best filler in the world.

Five years on… watch what happens.
Yes, she’s actually 50.
That’s what top level expert filler does.

The best filler in the world doesn’t announce itself. It doesn’t sit heavy, puff faces up, or scream “work done”. It integrates, supports, and quietly refines over time. When it’s the right product, placed in the right increments, in the right planes, and only where it’s genuinely needed, it doesn’t age you, it does the opposite.

This wasn’t one appointment. It was thoughtful, gradual work. We remodelled a very small chin, which completely changed her balance, and carefully treated the jawline, midface, nose, and forehead. No rushing. No overcorrection. Just anatomy, restraint, and experience.

People love to say filler always looks bad.
If that were true, this wouldn’t exist.

This is five years later.
Still smooth. Still undetectable.
Still just her, but better supported.

And that is the difference between crap, non medical filler that doesn’t respect the anatomy and the best filler in the world.

The bit that Kris Jenner, Anne Hathaway and Lindsay Lohan didn’t show you before the big reveal.
But I will.

Plastic surgery isn’t magic.
It’s a process.

Before anything else, I want to be clear. I was not unhappy with how I looked at 54. I wasn’t chasing youth or trying to erase myself. What I was fed up with was a year of ageing on fast-forward after facial paralysis. Watching your face change rapidly, asymmetrically, and out of your control is exhausting. At some point, you’re allowed to say: enough.

I needed the right surgeon, the right timing, and the resources to do it properly. I had all three.
So I did it. It really is that simple.

This is my face 14 hours post-op, just after Dr Dominic Bray put the scalpel down and closed my face.

Please remember: this is incredibly early doors. My face is heavier, fuller, and misshapen right now purely because of swelling. Early swelling lies. It distorts proportion and hides refinement. This is not the result, this is the very beginning of the process.

A lot of you asked what I actually had done, so in short (and yes, I currently resemble a mildly disgruntled burnt cat):

• Full face and neck lift
• Brow lift
• Orbicularis re-vectoring under the eyes
• Removal of neck glands
• Strategic fat repositioning
• Excess skin removal
• Earlobe restoration
• Followed by full-face laser

How do I feel? Like the worst sunburn of my life, but honestly not in pain. I’m allergic to codeine, not being handed morphine for this, and managing just fine on nefopam, paracetamol and a COX-2 inhibitor.

Any complications? A minor corneal abrasion that was deeply irritating and stole some sleep, but it’s settled now. This is real surgery, not a facial.

I’ll keep sharing the in-between stages, because incredible results don’t come from pretending this bit doesn’t exist.
The final outcome will be insane, but this is how you get there.

Honest. Unfiltered. The part nobody shows.

The bit that Kris Jenner, Anne Hathaway and Lindsay Lohan didn’t show you before the big reveal.
But I will.

Plastic surgery isn’t magic.
It’s a process.

Before anything else, I want to be clear. I was not unhappy with how I looked at 54. I wasn’t chasing youth or trying to erase myself. What I was fed up with was a year of ageing on fast-forward after facial paralysis. Watching your face change rapidly, asymmetrically, and out of your control is exhausting. At some point, you’re allowed to say: enough.

I needed the right surgeon, the right timing, and the resources to do it properly. I had all three.
So I did it. It really is that simple.

This is my face 14 hours post-op, just after Dr Dominic Bray put the scalpel down and closed my face.

Please remember: this is incredibly early doors. My face is heavier, fuller, and misshapen right now purely because of swelling. Early swelling lies. It distorts proportion and hides refinement. This is not the result, this is the very beginning of the process.

A lot of you asked what I actually had done, so in short (and yes, I currently resemble a mildly disgruntled burnt cat):

• Full face and neck lift
• Brow lift
• Orbicularis re-vectoring under the eyes
• Removal of neck glands
• Strategic fat repositioning
• Excess skin removal
• Earlobe restoration
• Followed by full-face laser

How do I feel? Like the worst sunburn of my life, but honestly not in pain. I’m allergic to codeine, not being handed morphine for this, and managing just fine on nefopam, paracetamol and a COX-2 inhibitor.

Any complications? A minor corneal abrasion that was deeply irritating and stole some sleep, but it’s settled now. This is real surgery, not a facial.

I’ll keep sharing the in-between stages, because incredible results don’t come from pretending this bit doesn’t exist.
The final outcome will be insane, but this is how you get there.

Honest. Unfiltered. The part nobody shows.

“The filler scam nobody wants to talk about.”

Dr James and I recorded this podcast in Dubai because we’re tired of the noise.

We’re not telling you to jump headfirst into any procedure, surgical or injectable.
But the uncomfortable truth is this: only a small minority of filler is done properly.

Good filler is actually very simple (as there’s anything when you’re an expert, because you’ve done your time).
But simple doesn’t mean easy.

It requires:
• Premium, HA products with a low HA concentration
• Precise placement in the correct planes
• Small, controlled increments
• Treating only true volume loss, nowhere else.
• only ever replacing what has been lost, in the areas the volume has dissipated from.

And let’s be very clear.
Filler does not lift faces.
If someone tells you it does, they’re lying to you.
Filler is jelly. Jelly doesn’t lift. It blends, and smoothes for sure. What we can do, is give the illusion of lifting and the two are very different things.

When applied with real anatomical science and restraint, filler can look beautiful, undetectable, and age-proof.
When it isn’t, it migrates, distorts, and quietly ruins faces over time.

This is an art.
It has taken us decades to learn it.

We’re starting a series of long-term case studies showing patients four years on after significant filler, and how correct maintenance actually looks.

Because it can be done properly.
And this video proves it.

“The filler scam nobody wants to talk about.”

Dr James and I recorded this podcast in Dubai because we’re tired of the noise.

We’re not telling you to jump headfirst into any procedure, surgical or injectable.
But the uncomfortable truth is this: only a small minority of filler is done properly.

Good filler is actually very simple (as there’s anything when you’re an expert, because you’ve done your time).
But simple doesn’t mean easy.

It requires:
• Premium, HA products with a low HA concentration
• Precise placement in the correct planes
• Small, controlled increments
• Treating only true volume loss, nowhere else.
• only ever replacing what has been lost, in the areas the volume has dissipated from.

And let’s be very clear.
Filler does not lift faces.
If someone tells you it does, they’re lying to you.
Filler is jelly. Jelly doesn’t lift. It blends, and smoothes for sure. What we can do, is give the illusion of lifting and the two are very different things.

When applied with real anatomical science and restraint, filler can look beautiful, undetectable, and age-proof.
When it isn’t, it migrates, distorts, and quietly ruins faces over time.

This is an art.
It has taken us decades to learn it.

We’re starting a series of long-term case studies showing patients four years on after significant filler, and how correct maintenance actually looks.

Because it can be done properly.
And this video proves it.

Part 2. Why I’m posting nonstop facelift run-up content.

I’m frantically making these videos because I have literally f*ck all else to do and have suddenly realised I’m about to hand my face and my autonomy over to other humans. And while I trust them completely, I am also an overthinking control freak who struggles with that concept. So here we are. Lucky you.

This was me travelling down yesterday, pretending I was an extra in “The Holiday” on a whimsical adventure, rather than someone about to have their face rearranged and nuked with a laser. Thank God it was pretty scenery. Distraction is a skill.

I’m not being paid. No kickbacks. No freebies. But I’ve genuinely been looked after like family. The clinic is beautiful, calm, slick, and quietly impressive. And yes, I say that as someone who runs high end clinics internationally. The team are immaculately chosen. The atmosphere matters. A lot.

High point: hyperbaric oxygen and MLD in house.
Low point: being made to wear a pair of knickers so aggressively large they could have doubled as wartime accommodation. I found this far funnier than was appropriate.

Stat that got me through it: you’re far more likely to die in a car crash than under a general anaesthetic.More people die falling down stairs or doing something daft in bed than under general anaesthetic. Perspective. the odds are even better with somebody at the absolute top of their game.

I feel very lucky. Very privileged. And very ready to let the right people take control.

Ask me anything.

Part 2. Why I’m posting nonstop facelift run-up content.

I’m frantically making these videos because I have literally f*ck all else to do and have suddenly realised I’m about to hand my face and my autonomy over to other humans. And while I trust them completely, I am also an overthinking control freak who struggles with that concept. So here we are. Lucky you.

This was me travelling down yesterday, pretending I was an extra in “The Holiday” on a whimsical adventure, rather than someone about to have their face rearranged and nuked with a laser. Thank God it was pretty scenery. Distraction is a skill.

I’m not being paid. No kickbacks. No freebies. But I’ve genuinely been looked after like family. The clinic is beautiful, calm, slick, and quietly impressive. And yes, I say that as someone who runs high end clinics internationally. The team are immaculately chosen. The atmosphere matters. A lot.

High point: hyperbaric oxygen and MLD in house.
Low point: being made to wear a pair of knickers so aggressively large they could have doubled as wartime accommodation. I found this far funnier than was appropriate.

Stat that got me through it: you’re far more likely to die in a car crash than under a general anaesthetic.More people die falling down stairs or doing something daft in bed than under general anaesthetic. Perspective. the odds are even better with somebody at the absolute top of their game.

I feel very lucky. Very privileged. And very ready to let the right people take control.

Ask me anything.

Part one. The emotional support hospital bag.

I am not actually having surgery until tomorrow, but this is me stress-packing like I am preparing for Everest rather than a controlled medical environment with professionals I trust implicitly.

It is truly wild how even a lifetime of medical knowledge completely leaves the building the second children exist and the words “general anaesthetic” are mentioned. Logic exits. Intuition stops returning calls. I start breathing heavily through my nose like Ferdinand the bull and quietly spiralling despite knowing, objectively, that I am in very safe hands.

That said, the bag is chaotic but also… weirdly well considered.

I know nothing should go over my head.
I know they will need to check my oxygen saturation, so yes, the gel nail varnish has to come off (humbling).
I know chewing might be annoying.
I know my face is going to feel hot, tight, uncomfortable and generally offended.

I know I need to stay hydrated, moisturised and support all the hard work and frankly not insignificant (but worthy) amount of money involved in this situation.

And I know comfort matters just as much as clinical outcomes.

So this is part one. A load of absolute nonsense in a bag, but nonsense with intention.

It is tongue in cheek, but also real. If you have questions about what to pack, what actually helps, or what you absolutely do not need to bring, ask me. I have had more surgery than most people have had hot dinners, and I am always happy to save you from unnecessary stress-packing chaos.

PS the nipple cream is actually for my lips. Don’t ask me how I found out it works, and we’ll all sleep better.

Part one. The emotional support hospital bag.

I am not actually having surgery until tomorrow, but this is me stress-packing like I am preparing for Everest rather than a controlled medical environment with professionals I trust implicitly.

It is truly wild how even a lifetime of medical knowledge completely leaves the building the second children exist and the words “general anaesthetic” are mentioned. Logic exits. Intuition stops returning calls. I start breathing heavily through my nose like Ferdinand the bull and quietly spiralling despite knowing, objectively, that I am in very safe hands.

That said, the bag is chaotic but also… weirdly well considered.

I know nothing should go over my head.
I know they will need to check my oxygen saturation, so yes, the gel nail varnish has to come off (humbling).
I know chewing might be annoying.
I know my face is going to feel hot, tight, uncomfortable and generally offended.

I know I need to stay hydrated, moisturised and support all the hard work and frankly not insignificant (but worthy) amount of money involved in this situation.

And I know comfort matters just as much as clinical outcomes.

So this is part one. A load of absolute nonsense in a bag, but nonsense with intention.

It is tongue in cheek, but also real. If you have questions about what to pack, what actually helps, or what you absolutely do not need to bring, ask me. I have had more surgery than most people have had hot dinners, and I am always happy to save you from unnecessary stress-packing chaos.

PS the nipple cream is actually for my lips. Don’t ask me how I found out it works, and we’ll all sleep better.

Every few years, the industry produces a new “miracle”. Face bandages, face taping, liquid BBLs, plasma pens, one size fits all beauty packages. They arrive loudly, go viral quickly, and promise shortcuts to anatomy that actually requires time, judgement, and restraint.

The pattern is always the same. Early hype. Influencer enthusiasm. Selective before and afters. Then, quietly, complications, revisions, disappointment, and silence. Gimmicks rarely fail because people are foolish. They fail because biology does not bend to trends.

We deliberately wait years before introducing anything new. Not because we are behind, but because we refuse to use patients as live trials. Tried and tested treatments, applied with precision to individual anatomy, outperform novelty every time. What works does not need reinvention every six months.

The era of cookie cutter faces is over. Individual anatomy is back in fashion. And treatments that cannot respect that rarely survive long enough to justify the damage they leave behind.

Our growth is not accidental. It is the result of consistency, restraint, and evidence led decision making across every clinic we operate globally. That is not coincidence. It is policy.

What trends can you think of that turned out to be gimmicks, and did any of you fall for them?

Every few years, the industry produces a new “miracle”. Face bandages, face taping, liquid BBLs, plasma pens, one size fits all beauty packages. They arrive loudly, go viral quickly, and promise shortcuts to anatomy that actually requires time, judgement, and restraint.

The pattern is always the same. Early hype. Influencer enthusiasm. Selective before and afters. Then, quietly, complications, revisions, disappointment, and silence. Gimmicks rarely fail because people are foolish. They fail because biology does not bend to trends.

We deliberately wait years before introducing anything new. Not because we are behind, but because we refuse to use patients as live trials. Tried and tested treatments, applied with precision to individual anatomy, outperform novelty every time. What works does not need reinvention every six months.

The era of cookie cutter faces is over. Individual anatomy is back in fashion. And treatments that cannot respect that rarely survive long enough to justify the damage they leave behind.

Our growth is not accidental. It is the result of consistency, restraint, and evidence led decision making across every clinic we operate globally. That is not coincidence. It is policy.

What trends can you think of that turned out to be gimmicks, and did any of you fall for them?

Never underestimate the power of tear trough rejuvenation and midface filler.

That shadow under the eyes can be genetic.

It can be age-related.

It can be thin skin, allergies, or all of the above.

What we do know is that looking permanently tired absolutely boils the p*ss of every single patient who suffers from it.

This is also one of the trickiest areas of the face to treat. The skin here is paper-thin. Not everyone is a candidate. The skin cannot be lax. Significant muscle herniation rules filler out. And sometimes surgery is the better answer.

When that’s the case, we say so. We refer on. No kickbacks. No ego. We know our limitations.

That said, it is rare that we cannot make some improvement through careful midface support. And when the patient selection is right, the results can be extraordinary.

We are fortunate that the clinical lead of the entire Consultant Clinic international group is Dr Kevin Kalwerisky, a triple board-certified oculoplastic and facial cosmetic surgeon.

As a group, we only use a cannula in this area, paired with a very fine filler with an elastic rheology that is not overly hydrophilic. In simple terms, it does not pull in water, it does not swell, and it does not make things worse. There are only a couple of fillers we would ever consider suitable here. Many injectors use non-specific products. It never ends well.

Placed in the correct plane, in the correct quantity, on the correct patient, this treatment can be nothing short of spectacular.

Patient selection is everything.

Never underestimate the power of tear trough rejuvenation and midface filler.

That shadow under the eyes can be genetic.

It can be age-related.

It can be thin skin, allergies, or all of the above.

What we do know is that looking permanently tired absolutely boils the p*ss of every single patient who suffers from it.

This is also one of the trickiest areas of the face to treat. The skin here is paper-thin. Not everyone is a candidate. The skin cannot be lax. Significant muscle herniation rules filler out. And sometimes surgery is the better answer.

When that’s the case, we say so. We refer on. No kickbacks. No ego. We know our limitations.

That said, it is rare that we cannot make some improvement through careful midface support. And when the patient selection is right, the results can be extraordinary.

We are fortunate that the clinical lead of the entire Consultant Clinic international group is Dr Kevin Kalwerisky, a triple board-certified oculoplastic and facial cosmetic surgeon.

As a group, we only use a cannula in this area, paired with a very fine filler with an elastic rheology that is not overly hydrophilic. In simple terms, it does not pull in water, it does not swell, and it does not make things worse. There are only a couple of fillers we would ever consider suitable here. Many injectors use non-specific products. It never ends well.

Placed in the correct plane, in the correct quantity, on the correct patient, this treatment can be nothing short of spectacular.

Patient selection is everything.

You feel less than enough, when actually you look pretty bloody amazing. Truly.

These “B-reels” were filmed just hours before my whole face shut down and stopped working. I still don’t have full movement back. I’m now 14 months into severe Bell’s palsy.

At first, I was devastated by this new face of stone. But 14 months in, perspective has a funny way of arriving whether you invite it or not.

I’ve genuinely grieved for my smile.

It is soul-destroying not to be able to show joy or reassurance or warmth, even if you never thought your smile was perfect to begin with.

I hate when my children told me something wonderful or proudly show me something they’d made, and my face couldn’t reflect how deeply I felt it.

Then the paralysis spread to the other side. For a very brief but terrifying few days, I believed I might be facing something terminal. The thought of leaving my children without a mother eclipsed everything else. In that moment, how I looked stopped mattering entirely.

I noticed how few people with Bell’s palsy feel able to show themselves online.

So here I am, sharing every inch of my vulnerability, not for sympathy, but for perspective.

You might think you look terrible.

I promise you, you don’t.

You will age. You will change. And the things that matter most are genuinely not what you look like.

Yes, I appreciate the irony of someone who owns the business I do saying that. But some lessons arrive the hard way, and they stay with you for life.

You feel less than enough, when actually you look pretty bloody amazing. Truly.

These “B-reels” were filmed just hours before my whole face shut down and stopped working. I still don’t have full movement back. I’m now 14 months into severe Bell’s palsy.

At first, I was devastated by this new face of stone. But 14 months in, perspective has a funny way of arriving whether you invite it or not.

I’ve genuinely grieved for my smile.

It is soul-destroying not to be able to show joy or reassurance or warmth, even if you never thought your smile was perfect to begin with.

I hate when my children told me something wonderful or proudly show me something they’d made, and my face couldn’t reflect how deeply I felt it.

Then the paralysis spread to the other side. For a very brief but terrifying few days, I believed I might be facing something terminal. The thought of leaving my children without a mother eclipsed everything else. In that moment, how I looked stopped mattering entirely.

I noticed how few people with Bell’s palsy feel able to show themselves online.

So here I am, sharing every inch of my vulnerability, not for sympathy, but for perspective.

You might think you look terrible.

I promise you, you don’t.

You will age. You will change. And the things that matter most are genuinely not what you look like.

Yes, I appreciate the irony of someone who owns the business I do saying that. But some lessons arrive the hard way, and they stay with you for life.

Every January I’m handed a blank piece of paper and a quiet sense of optimism.
I’m fully aware fate will attempt a roundhouse to the tits at some point during the year. It’s basically tradition.

But I also know I always find a way out. I always do.
So here I am, weirdly excited, slightly unhinged, and ready to write anyway.

Tell me what you want this year…

Every January I’m handed a blank piece of paper and a quiet sense of optimism.
I’m fully aware fate will attempt a roundhouse to the tits at some point during the year. It’s basically tradition.

But I also know I always find a way out. I always do.
So here I am, weirdly excited, slightly unhinged, and ready to write anyway.

Tell me what you want this year…

So today I did a thing
I who absolutely hated tattoos somehow ended up getting a tiny one with my best friend. And this isn’t just about ink - it’s about the story behind it.

Seventeen years ago Sarah and I met on an infertility forum. She couldn’t get pregnant and I couldn’t stay pregnant. We both lived with the same autoimmune disorder. Her username was Windy. Mine was Bunty. We never planned to meet. We didn’t even know what the other looked like. But we shared our deepest fears and secrets because we believed we’d never meet in person.

Then a miracle happened. We discovered we had the same due date. Except I lost my baby. Sarah was so respectful, so kind, and she stayed with me through it. The day before she was due to deliver her twins I phoned her. For the first time. I told her I was expecting my first take-home baby -my Lara.

Only after my second child was born and her twins arrived did we finally meet. We became inseparable. And our children — they became friends in a way that feels like destiny. Now we both walk life as single parents, but our kids don’t remember a life without each other… and I honestly don’t want to remember one without her.

So yesterday, on our Christmas trip to New York, as a holiday gift to these incredible kids and family, we got tiny hearts tattooed. Four little hearts to remind us that miracles happen when you are supported by the right woman - when love grows in places you never expected.

This tattoo is more than ink on skin. It is our history. Our hope. Our forever reminder that strength comes from connection, and joy can grow out of pain.

Here’s to tiny hearts that became stronger for it and to lifelong friendship that changed everything.

So today I did a thing
I who absolutely hated tattoos somehow ended up getting a tiny one with my best friend. And this isn’t just about ink - it’s about the story behind it.

Seventeen years ago Sarah and I met on an infertility forum. She couldn’t get pregnant and I couldn’t stay pregnant. We both lived with the same autoimmune disorder. Her username was Windy. Mine was Bunty. We never planned to meet. We didn’t even know what the other looked like. But we shared our deepest fears and secrets because we believed we’d never meet in person.

Then a miracle happened. We discovered we had the same due date. Except I lost my baby. Sarah was so respectful, so kind, and she stayed with me through it. The day before she was due to deliver her twins I phoned her. For the first time. I told her I was expecting my first take-home baby -my Lara.

Only after my second child was born and her twins arrived did we finally meet. We became inseparable. And our children — they became friends in a way that feels like destiny. Now we both walk life as single parents, but our kids don’t remember a life without each other… and I honestly don’t want to remember one without her.

So yesterday, on our Christmas trip to New York, as a holiday gift to these incredible kids and family, we got tiny hearts tattooed. Four little hearts to remind us that miracles happen when you are supported by the right woman - when love grows in places you never expected.

This tattoo is more than ink on skin. It is our history. Our hope. Our forever reminder that strength comes from connection, and joy can grow out of pain.

Here’s to tiny hearts that became stronger for it and to lifelong friendship that changed everything.

This year started… dramatically.
Like “not on my bingo card” dramatically.

Within days of entering 2025 I was paralysed, parked on a hospital ward for a week, staring at the ceiling wondering why my nervous system had chosen chaos as its opening act. Friends brought snacks and reassurance. Surgeon friends rang me like pit crew at Silverstone, calmly talking nerve endings, rehab plans, and reminding me I was not broken, just temporarily buffering.

My team quietly picked everything up without drama. Dr Kevin and Dr Gareth pulled everyone together. Slack did not miss a beat. My life kept moving even when I could not. Which is a very strange and humbling thing to witness from a hospital bed.

Recovery was slow and at times frightening, but it got better because I made it get better. And I could only do that because I was carried by an extraordinary community. Friends who showed up. People who listened. People who worried. People who loved me loudly. People who picked up my kids from school. People who turned up with food, encouragement, humour, and perspective. Even today my best friend Lynne sprinting over to let the Christmas decorators in because life does not stop just because you are busy healing.

Somehow I have spent this year doing Indiana Jones style manoeuvres through hoops of fire, skidding under rapidly closing doors, occasionally singeing my eyebrows, but always coming out the other side a little wiser. Every year gets better because I learn more from the hard bits. The obstacles do not get smaller. I just get better at navigating them.

To everyone who has engaged with me here, listened to my story, supported me, and quietly held parts of my life together when I could not, thank you. I am blessed beyond words. My community is woven into nearly every part of who I am.

2025 tried it.
2025 did not win.
And 2026 already looks very good.

Tag the person who helped you survive this year.

This year started… dramatically.
Like “not on my bingo card” dramatically.

Within days of entering 2025 I was paralysed, parked on a hospital ward for a week, staring at the ceiling wondering why my nervous system had chosen chaos as its opening act. Friends brought snacks and reassurance. Surgeon friends rang me like pit crew at Silverstone, calmly talking nerve endings, rehab plans, and reminding me I was not broken, just temporarily buffering.

My team quietly picked everything up without drama. Dr Kevin and Dr Gareth pulled everyone together. Slack did not miss a beat. My life kept moving even when I could not. Which is a very strange and humbling thing to witness from a hospital bed.

Recovery was slow and at times frightening, but it got better because I made it get better. And I could only do that because I was carried by an extraordinary community. Friends who showed up. People who listened. People who worried. People who loved me loudly. People who picked up my kids from school. People who turned up with food, encouragement, humour, and perspective. Even today my best friend Lynne sprinting over to let the Christmas decorators in because life does not stop just because you are busy healing.

Somehow I have spent this year doing Indiana Jones style manoeuvres through hoops of fire, skidding under rapidly closing doors, occasionally singeing my eyebrows, but always coming out the other side a little wiser. Every year gets better because I learn more from the hard bits. The obstacles do not get smaller. I just get better at navigating them.

To everyone who has engaged with me here, listened to my story, supported me, and quietly held parts of my life together when I could not, thank you. I am blessed beyond words. My community is woven into nearly every part of who I am.

2025 tried it.
2025 did not win.
And 2026 already looks very good.

Tag the person who helped you survive this year.

The Boxing Day twilight zone�….

The Boxing Day twilight zone….

Every mum deserves a standing ovation today.
Because Christmas doesn’t magically happen. It is engineered.

By women. Under pressure. With unhinged lists and misplaced optimism.

This Christmas I fed 6. Happily. Joyfully. With love.
While also wrapping presents at midnight.
(In my case, spectacularly poorly). Think paper torn like a raccoon had a crack at it, patched together with sellotape, and bows applied with the confidence of someone who has accepted defeat and said “it’ll do”.

I also forgot about presents I absolutely remembered buying. Couldn’t find them because I bought them yonks ago and hid them so well I outsmarted myself.
Naturally, I found them by accident at the worst possible moment.

Which is how I ended up meeting my best friend in a service station off the M62 to hand over extra stuff.
Like a festive drug deal.
As if she didn’t already have enough on. She was feeding 24.
Twenty. Four. People.

Behind the pretty is:
• Butchers slots, emergency supermarket sweep shopping
• Cooking while answering 400 questions a minute
• Wrapping like a Victorian factory worker on a night shift
• Tracking parcels like MI5
• Remembering batteries, dishwasher salt, packing for going away
• Running a business right up to the last minute
• Creating magic while powered entirely by fumes, & quiet rage at Evri.

I love taking care of people. I love making others happy. Especially kids. Of course I do.
But let’s not romanticise it. It is draining. & relentless. The list never ends. The mental load does not clock off. Ever.

So if you’re sitting there today, exhausted, surrounded by chaos, crumbs, toys, wrapping paper, empty bottles and a fridge full of leftovers you cannot face.
Same.

Every year I’m alive, I’m more and more in awe of the women we all are.
Honestly. Good job.

Every mum deserves a standing ovation today.
Because Christmas doesn’t magically happen. It is engineered.

By women. Under pressure. With unhinged lists and misplaced optimism.

This Christmas I fed 6. Happily. Joyfully. With love.
While also wrapping presents at midnight.
(In my case, spectacularly poorly). Think paper torn like a raccoon had a crack at it, patched together with sellotape, and bows applied with the confidence of someone who has accepted defeat and said “it’ll do”.

I also forgot about presents I absolutely remembered buying. Couldn’t find them because I bought them yonks ago and hid them so well I outsmarted myself.
Naturally, I found them by accident at the worst possible moment.

Which is how I ended up meeting my best friend in a service station off the M62 to hand over extra stuff.
Like a festive drug deal.
As if she didn’t already have enough on. She was feeding 24.
Twenty. Four. People.

Behind the pretty is:
• Butchers slots, emergency supermarket sweep shopping
• Cooking while answering 400 questions a minute
• Wrapping like a Victorian factory worker on a night shift
• Tracking parcels like MI5
• Remembering batteries, dishwasher salt, packing for going away
• Running a business right up to the last minute
• Creating magic while powered entirely by fumes, & quiet rage at Evri.

I love taking care of people. I love making others happy. Especially kids. Of course I do.
But let’s not romanticise it. It is draining. & relentless. The list never ends. The mental load does not clock off. Ever.

So if you’re sitting there today, exhausted, surrounded by chaos, crumbs, toys, wrapping paper, empty bottles and a fridge full of leftovers you cannot face.
Same.

Every year I’m alive, I’m more and more in awe of the women we all are.
Honestly. Good job.

If refreshing the tracking page burned calories, we’d all be shredded.

You’ve checked it 14 times. It still hasn’t left the depot.

If refreshing the tracking page burned calories, we’d all be shredded.

You’ve checked it 14 times. It still hasn’t left the depot.

My grandmother was the finest woman to ever walk this planet.

Of all the people I have known, she had the purest heart. I never once heard her say a bad word about a single living person or sentient being. She was sunshine in human form. Warm, generous, endlessly kind.

I have two daughters. One is a cheeky monkey. And one is quite literally the pure form of kindness. She’s the one I’m talking about when I laugh and say, “I don’t know where you came from”… because I’m far more like the cheeky monkey myself. Then I pause and smile. I do know. She came from Granny Bunty.

Granny Bunty was wise, kind, a feeder, a woman who seemed to exist purely to make others feel safe, full, and loved.

When she died in December many years ago, something in me shattered into a million pieces. I never fully recovered. There has always been a small, empty, granny-shaped space in my heart since. She was, quite simply, the very best thing in my life.

I’m only sad she never got to see the home I live in now. I would have given her the most beautiful room, the best view, and she would have wanted for nothing. But life dealt her losses early. A series of stillbirths meant she had only one child, much later in life, and I didn’t get her for as long as I wanted.

Her birthday was September 20. I remember it every year.

So when I saw this, I howled. I love seeing people cherish elderly relatives. They are living libraries. Carriers of history, values, humour, resilience. So much of who we are comes from them.

This time of year always makes me sad thinking about how many elderly people feel forgotten. If anyone knows of someone in the Manchester area who is alone this Christmas, I would be genuinely delighted to drop off a Christmas dinner, hand cooked by me. (Don’t let that put you off!)

I’m so happy to see families loving their elders well. I just wanted to share this with you.

My grandmother was the finest woman to ever walk this planet.

Of all the people I have known, she had the purest heart. I never once heard her say a bad word about a single living person or sentient being. She was sunshine in human form. Warm, generous, endlessly kind.

I have two daughters. One is a cheeky monkey. And one is quite literally the pure form of kindness. She’s the one I’m talking about when I laugh and say, “I don’t know where you came from”… because I’m far more like the cheeky monkey myself. Then I pause and smile. I do know. She came from Granny Bunty.

Granny Bunty was wise, kind, a feeder, a woman who seemed to exist purely to make others feel safe, full, and loved.

When she died in December many years ago, something in me shattered into a million pieces. I never fully recovered. There has always been a small, empty, granny-shaped space in my heart since. She was, quite simply, the very best thing in my life.

I’m only sad she never got to see the home I live in now. I would have given her the most beautiful room, the best view, and she would have wanted for nothing. But life dealt her losses early. A series of stillbirths meant she had only one child, much later in life, and I didn’t get her for as long as I wanted.

Her birthday was September 20. I remember it every year.

So when I saw this, I howled. I love seeing people cherish elderly relatives. They are living libraries. Carriers of history, values, humour, resilience. So much of who we are comes from them.

This time of year always makes me sad thinking about how many elderly people feel forgotten. If anyone knows of someone in the Manchester area who is alone this Christmas, I would be genuinely delighted to drop off a Christmas dinner, hand cooked by me. (Don’t let that put you off!)

I’m so happy to see families loving their elders well. I just wanted to share this with you.

We’ve been watching David Beckham lately, and honestly, he looks phenomenal.

From an anatomical point of view, people in their 50s do age in fairly predictable patterns. David is extremely lean, with visible abdominal definition and clear muscle structure, which tells us his overall body fat is very low. Typically, in men who remain this lean with age, we expect corresponding facial volume loss.

What is interesting is that his face appears slightly fuller and more structurally supported than we would normally expect in someone with such low body fat, alongside what looks like very subtle lip enhancement. From a purely forensic aesthetic perspective, that suggests some degree of intervention. And that is absolutely fine.

His darker beard and hair also add contrast and youthfulness. Naturally, he has always been quite fair, so this grooming choice alone makes a significant difference and is often overlooked.

The bigger point is this. Many men have treatments. Many look fantastic. There is nothing shameful or controversial about ageing naturally or choosing aesthetic support along the way. Everyone is pro-choice when it comes to their face, their body, and how they age.

Nothing here needs to be hidden. Nothing needs to be judged. And nothing should be stigmatised.

We’ve been watching David Beckham lately, and honestly, he looks phenomenal.

From an anatomical point of view, people in their 50s do age in fairly predictable patterns. David is extremely lean, with visible abdominal definition and clear muscle structure, which tells us his overall body fat is very low. Typically, in men who remain this lean with age, we expect corresponding facial volume loss.

What is interesting is that his face appears slightly fuller and more structurally supported than we would normally expect in someone with such low body fat, alongside what looks like very subtle lip enhancement. From a purely forensic aesthetic perspective, that suggests some degree of intervention. And that is absolutely fine.

His darker beard and hair also add contrast and youthfulness. Naturally, he has always been quite fair, so this grooming choice alone makes a significant difference and is often overlooked.

The bigger point is this. Many men have treatments. Many look fantastic. There is nothing shameful or controversial about ageing naturally or choosing aesthetic support along the way. Everyone is pro-choice when it comes to their face, their body, and how they age.

Nothing here needs to be hidden. Nothing needs to be judged. And nothing should be stigmatised.

People talk about single parenting as though it is defined only by what is missing. The support that was not there. The help that would have made things easier. And yes, there were moments of real difficulty. Times when I was ill, exhausted, frightened, and would have welcomed another adult under the same roof. I will never deny that.

But that is not the full story.

What is rarely spoken about is the autonomy. The ability to raise your children in a way you know is right. To set the values, the standards, the direction. To build a life intentionally, not reactively.

My children have grown up understanding friendship because we have lived it. When I needed support, I leaned into community, not collapse. They have seen what chosen family looks like and why it matters. They understand that strength does not mean doing everything alone. It means knowing when and how to connect.

They have learned resilience not as a concept, but as a lived experience. They watched someone build from absolute ashes. They saw things break and be repaired. They learned that when life fractures, you do not give up. You fix what you can and keep moving.

Children rise to the level of expectation placed upon them. Two girls watching a woman hold the centre, adjust the orbit when needed, and keep everything moving forward learns something profound about what is possible. Especially for women.

This life gave me the freedom to show them the world. To travel. To teach them what I wish I had learned earlier. To model independence, curiosity, and courage in motion, not theory.

People often tell me how hard it is. And it can be. There were nights I cried into a pillow so no one would hear. But I would not change a single part of this story. I do not believe my children would be who they are without seeing someone break slightly, repair herself, & keep going.

When they were little and I asked, “What is mummy good at?” they always said, “Fixing things.”

When they ask now if they will be good at fixing things when they are older, I tell them the truth. You already are - and will be even better than I ever was.

This is your season’s sign, - that it gets easier because you get stronger

People talk about single parenting as though it is defined only by what is missing. The support that was not there. The help that would have made things easier. And yes, there were moments of real difficulty. Times when I was ill, exhausted, frightened, and would have welcomed another adult under the same roof. I will never deny that.

But that is not the full story.

What is rarely spoken about is the autonomy. The ability to raise your children in a way you know is right. To set the values, the standards, the direction. To build a life intentionally, not reactively.

My children have grown up understanding friendship because we have lived it. When I needed support, I leaned into community, not collapse. They have seen what chosen family looks like and why it matters. They understand that strength does not mean doing everything alone. It means knowing when and how to connect.

They have learned resilience not as a concept, but as a lived experience. They watched someone build from absolute ashes. They saw things break and be repaired. They learned that when life fractures, you do not give up. You fix what you can and keep moving.

Children rise to the level of expectation placed upon them. Two girls watching a woman hold the centre, adjust the orbit when needed, and keep everything moving forward learns something profound about what is possible. Especially for women.

This life gave me the freedom to show them the world. To travel. To teach them what I wish I had learned earlier. To model independence, curiosity, and courage in motion, not theory.

People often tell me how hard it is. And it can be. There were nights I cried into a pillow so no one would hear. But I would not change a single part of this story. I do not believe my children would be who they are without seeing someone break slightly, repair herself, & keep going.

When they were little and I asked, “What is mummy good at?” they always said, “Fixing things.”

When they ask now if they will be good at fixing things when they are older, I tell them the truth. You already are - and will be even better than I ever was.

This is your season’s sign, - that it gets easier because you get stronger

If it brings you joy, it counts.
Argue amongst yourselves.

If it brings you joy, it counts.
Argue amongst yourselves.

When a patient finally says
“I don’t want to cut corners, I want to dissolve someone who else’s crappy work properly and do this the right way”

Dr Gareth immediately in his Jon Hamm era.

Because the real glow up is not more filler.
It’s patience, understanding, and undoing what doesn’t belong there.
It’s trusting the process instead of constantly chasing shortcuts. That’s what got you there in the first place, amirite?

Dissolve. Reset. Rebuild properly.
No panic topping up.
No masking problems with more product.
No bargain-bin anatomy decisions, and hoping a wish and a prayer will change the laws of physics “just this one time”.

This is the energy when someone actually listens, understands balance, and chooses long-term results over quick fixes.

We love growth.
We love restraint.
We love a patient who lets us do it properly.

Cue the mental Jon Hamm reverie . 💃🕺

When a patient finally says
“I don’t want to cut corners, I want to dissolve someone who else’s crappy work properly and do this the right way”

Dr Gareth immediately in his Jon Hamm era.

Because the real glow up is not more filler.
It’s patience, understanding, and undoing what doesn’t belong there.
It’s trusting the process instead of constantly chasing shortcuts. That’s what got you there in the first place, amirite?

Dissolve. Reset. Rebuild properly.
No panic topping up.
No masking problems with more product.
No bargain-bin anatomy decisions, and hoping a wish and a prayer will change the laws of physics “just this one time”.

This is the energy when someone actually listens, understands balance, and chooses long-term results over quick fixes.

We love growth.
We love restraint.
We love a patient who lets us do it properly.

Cue the mental Jon Hamm reverie . 💃🕺

If it were three wise women, the baby would have been delivered calmly, the stable cleaned properly, the animals fed, and someone would already be asking what everyone wanted for dinner.

There would be snacks. There would be clean sheets. There would be a firm but kind instruction for Mary to sit down and rest while someone else handled everything.

No gold. No frankincense. Definitely no standing around admiring the situation. Just practical help, quiet competence, and a meal that magically appears when you did not even realise you were hungry.

Wise men followed a star.
Wise women follow a plan.

And everyone goes home fed, rested, and slightly in awe of how smoothly it all ran.

If it were three wise women, the baby would have been delivered calmly, the stable cleaned properly, the animals fed, and someone would already be asking what everyone wanted for dinner.

There would be snacks. There would be clean sheets. There would be a firm but kind instruction for Mary to sit down and rest while someone else handled everything.

No gold. No frankincense. Definitely no standing around admiring the situation. Just practical help, quiet competence, and a meal that magically appears when you did not even realise you were hungry.

Wise men followed a star.
Wise women follow a plan.

And everyone goes home fed, rested, and slightly in awe of how smoothly it all ran.

Nose Botox is not a magic wand. Sorry.

Nose slimming Botox and “lip flips” using toxin only work if the muscle is actually doing something in the first place.

Botox does not shrink bone.
It does not dissolve cartilage.
It does not magically sculpt tissue that is structurally bulky.

It only works on muscles that are over-working.

Think of it like this.
Botox is a dimmer switch, not a bulldozer.
If the light is already dim, turning the switch does nothing.
If the light is blazing, then yes, you’ll see a difference.

So if your nose widens because your muscles flare hard when you smile or talk, Botox can be brilliant.
If your nose looks larger because of bone, cartilage shape, tissue bulk, or a dorsal hump, Botox will do absolutely nothing.

Zero. Nada. Cosmetic fairy dust unavailable.

Structural problem = structural solution.
That means either surgical rhinoplasty for the right candidate, with real downtime and real permanence, or liquid rhinoplasty for contour and support.

Anyone selling nose Botox as a universal quick fix is selling vibes, not anatomy.

Dr Gareth shows you in this reel exactly how to test whether you’re a Botox nose or a filler nose. Spoiler: not everyone is both.

Ask questions. Demand honesty. Respect anatomy.

Your face deserves more than a trend.

Nose Botox is not a magic wand. Sorry.

Nose slimming Botox and “lip flips” using toxin only work if the muscle is actually doing something in the first place.

Botox does not shrink bone.
It does not dissolve cartilage.
It does not magically sculpt tissue that is structurally bulky.

It only works on muscles that are over-working.

Think of it like this.
Botox is a dimmer switch, not a bulldozer.
If the light is already dim, turning the switch does nothing.
If the light is blazing, then yes, you’ll see a difference.

So if your nose widens because your muscles flare hard when you smile or talk, Botox can be brilliant.
If your nose looks larger because of bone, cartilage shape, tissue bulk, or a dorsal hump, Botox will do absolutely nothing.

Zero. Nada. Cosmetic fairy dust unavailable.

Structural problem = structural solution.
That means either surgical rhinoplasty for the right candidate, with real downtime and real permanence, or liquid rhinoplasty for contour and support.

Anyone selling nose Botox as a universal quick fix is selling vibes, not anatomy.

Dr Gareth shows you in this reel exactly how to test whether you’re a Botox nose or a filler nose. Spoiler: not everyone is both.

Ask questions. Demand honesty. Respect anatomy.

Your face deserves more than a trend.

I’ve just been sent this footage and it absolutely broke me in the best way.

This was filmed over 20 years ago, straight from a video camera, which somehow makes it even more special. It shows an eight year old boy called Robert who adored theatre and, sadly, was bullied at school for not fitting in. His grandparents responded in the most extraordinary way. They spent months, by hand, building him his own little theatre so he could put on shows at home.

No flashy presents. No big budget. Just time, love, imagination and total belief in who he was.

I do not know this family, but I know this feeling. When I was a child my grandparents used to say, “You don’t know how lucky you are.” Now here I am saying exactly the same thing to my own children, while quietly realising just how right they were.

Christmas has become so commercial, which is why I never buy my children presents. We travel. We do things together. We make memories. Because when you strip it all back, this is what real richness looks like. Not things, but moments you carry forever.

I am fairly sure Robert has just unlocked one of the coolest core memories imaginable. I was in tears watching it.

If anyone knows whether Robert went into theatre, or knows him now, please tag him. I would love him to know that this moment still matters and that the love behind it is still being felt all these years later.

This is Christmas. 🎄

Edited to add : I found him @robmadge02 !

I’ve just been sent this footage and it absolutely broke me in the best way.

This was filmed over 20 years ago, straight from a video camera, which somehow makes it even more special. It shows an eight year old boy called Robert who adored theatre and, sadly, was bullied at school for not fitting in. His grandparents responded in the most extraordinary way. They spent months, by hand, building him his own little theatre so he could put on shows at home.

No flashy presents. No big budget. Just time, love, imagination and total belief in who he was.

I do not know this family, but I know this feeling. When I was a child my grandparents used to say, “You don’t know how lucky you are.” Now here I am saying exactly the same thing to my own children, while quietly realising just how right they were.

Christmas has become so commercial, which is why I never buy my children presents. We travel. We do things together. We make memories. Because when you strip it all back, this is what real richness looks like. Not things, but moments you carry forever.

I am fairly sure Robert has just unlocked one of the coolest core memories imaginable. I was in tears watching it.

If anyone knows whether Robert went into theatre, or knows him now, please tag him. I would love him to know that this moment still matters and that the love behind it is still being felt all these years later.

This is Christmas. 🎄

Edited to add : I found him @robmadge02 !

One of the most important messages we need to get across is this: filler dissolver does not ruin your face.

So why do people believe it does? Almost always, it comes down to lack of expertise.

Many practitioners, particularly in the USA and Dubai, do not realise that there are different types of dissolver. Human derived products are significantly more aggressive to facial tissues than the animal derived, dry products we use. That difference matters. It is exactly why we can safely use larger quantities when needed, without damaging the face.

We are not guessing. We have treated several hundred thousand patients, and we perform one to two dissolves every single day, seven days a week, for over a decade. Those are not small numbers, and they are very hard to argue with.

Where problems actually arise is not the dissolver itself. Damage happens when practitioners dissolve filler, then refill using the same techniques, the same products, and the same mindset. Then they dissolve again. Then refill again. That repetitive cycle of over needling and tissue stretching is the real issue. Doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different outcome is, quite simply, madness.

In experienced hands, we can remove almost all filler, around 95 percent in a single session, with no tissue damage. Dissolver works within one to 24 hours. Once the filler has gone, we allow the tissues to stabilise, and only then, if appropriate, re treat using a softer, lower cross linked product.

It is not complicated. It is about knowledge, skill, and product choice, and the reality is that most people are not using the same tools or protocols. Hyaluronidase misuse is not the problem. Poor technique is.

PS thank you for your support of these reels - they’re my first proper filming post paralysis and my eyes got so dry and twitchy filming, and my face hurt from talking for hours back to back filming. But we loved it!

One of the most important messages we need to get across is this: filler dissolver does not ruin your face.

So why do people believe it does? Almost always, it comes down to lack of expertise.

Many practitioners, particularly in the USA and Dubai, do not realise that there are different types of dissolver. Human derived products are significantly more aggressive to facial tissues than the animal derived, dry products we use. That difference matters. It is exactly why we can safely use larger quantities when needed, without damaging the face.

We are not guessing. We have treated several hundred thousand patients, and we perform one to two dissolves every single day, seven days a week, for over a decade. Those are not small numbers, and they are very hard to argue with.

Where problems actually arise is not the dissolver itself. Damage happens when practitioners dissolve filler, then refill using the same techniques, the same products, and the same mindset. Then they dissolve again. Then refill again. That repetitive cycle of over needling and tissue stretching is the real issue. Doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different outcome is, quite simply, madness.

In experienced hands, we can remove almost all filler, around 95 percent in a single session, with no tissue damage. Dissolver works within one to 24 hours. Once the filler has gone, we allow the tissues to stabilise, and only then, if appropriate, re treat using a softer, lower cross linked product.

It is not complicated. It is about knowledge, skill, and product choice, and the reality is that most people are not using the same tools or protocols. Hyaluronidase misuse is not the problem. Poor technique is.

PS thank you for your support of these reels - they’re my first proper filming post paralysis and my eyes got so dry and twitchy filming, and my face hurt from talking for hours back to back filming. But we loved it!

Dick Van Dyke is 100 today. One hundred. And honestly, what a masterclass in how to live.

Every photo of him, in his prime and now, tells the same story. A smile that feels genuine. An energy that never looks forced. A dude who shows up with joy, curiosity, and kindness, again and again. You rarely see him without warmth in his face, and that says everything.

The third image in this carousel might be my favourite. Dick Van Dyke going to the gym in a “spoonful of sugar T shirt” Iconic. Funny. Unexpected. And somehow exactly right. Who does that at 100? Someone who has nailed the mindset part of life.

Yes, we work in aesthetics. But the real secret has never been about looking younger. It is about feeling alive, staying curious, moving your body, laughing often, and holding on to a positive attitude for as long as you possibly can. Vitality lasts longer than youth ever does.

Happy 100th birthday, Dick Van Dyke. What a life. What a legacy.

Dick Van Dyke is 100 today. One hundred. And honestly, what a masterclass in how to live.

Every photo of him, in his prime and now, tells the same story. A smile that feels genuine. An energy that never looks forced. A dude who shows up with joy, curiosity, and kindness, again and again. You rarely see him without warmth in his face, and that says everything.

The third image in this carousel might be my favourite. Dick Van Dyke going to the gym in a “spoonful of sugar T shirt” Iconic. Funny. Unexpected. And somehow exactly right. Who does that at 100? Someone who has nailed the mindset part of life.

Yes, we work in aesthetics. But the real secret has never been about looking younger. It is about feeling alive, staying curious, moving your body, laughing often, and holding on to a positive attitude for as long as you possibly can. Vitality lasts longer than youth ever does.

Happy 100th birthday, Dick Van Dyke. What a life. What a legacy.

It always looks effortless.
Everyone says, “Ooh I don’t know how you do it all,” and you smile and bat the compliment away.
What they do not see is that you nearly fell asleep in the car on the way to work, so had the fans blasting Arctic tundra directly into your face just to stay conscious.

What you do not see are the lists running in someone’s head at 3am. The planning that starts quietly, then absolutely feral, in November. The five trees going up on the 7th because your children love “the magic” of the decorations, and now you have quite literally made a rod for your own ageing back. The fir scented candles burning when there has not even been a first frost. The early, deliberate creation of a feeling everyone else simply gets to step into. My hands a cadaverous blue from cookie decorating and an unhinged commitment to the colour “icy sky”.

Most of the Christmas magic is invisible work.
And most of that work is done by women.

It is the remembering of tiny rituals. The ridiculous advent calendar you ordered from Denmark in August. The Christmas Jellycats you know they will absolutely lose their minds over. Trees in their bedrooms. Skidding into the school Christmas concert Indiana Jones style, still in scrubs, slightly out of breath but spiritually present. The anticipating. The emotional labour of making everything feel warm, safe, special, and joyful while also working, unpacking boxes, running homes, and quietly holding everyone else together.

Christmas evening, when the room finally settles and the noise fades and the last thing has been put away, that is often when it hits. The quiet collapse. The full body shutdown. The moment you sit down and realise you have precisely f*ck all left in the tank.

It is worth it. It always is.
But it is also a lot.

So this is your annual reminder that if you feel oddly flat, emotional, or completely spent once the magic has arrived, you are not ungrateful. You are just a mama. And you probably carried far more than anyone ever noticed.
(For the record, I silently wept watching my daughter sing “I Believe in Angels” solo, so if you cried at a primary school hymn, welcome.)

I see you, you total badass. ❤️

It always looks effortless.
Everyone says, “Ooh I don’t know how you do it all,” and you smile and bat the compliment away.
What they do not see is that you nearly fell asleep in the car on the way to work, so had the fans blasting Arctic tundra directly into your face just to stay conscious.

What you do not see are the lists running in someone’s head at 3am. The planning that starts quietly, then absolutely feral, in November. The five trees going up on the 7th because your children love “the magic” of the decorations, and now you have quite literally made a rod for your own ageing back. The fir scented candles burning when there has not even been a first frost. The early, deliberate creation of a feeling everyone else simply gets to step into. My hands a cadaverous blue from cookie decorating and an unhinged commitment to the colour “icy sky”.

Most of the Christmas magic is invisible work.
And most of that work is done by women.

It is the remembering of tiny rituals. The ridiculous advent calendar you ordered from Denmark in August. The Christmas Jellycats you know they will absolutely lose their minds over. Trees in their bedrooms. Skidding into the school Christmas concert Indiana Jones style, still in scrubs, slightly out of breath but spiritually present. The anticipating. The emotional labour of making everything feel warm, safe, special, and joyful while also working, unpacking boxes, running homes, and quietly holding everyone else together.

Christmas evening, when the room finally settles and the noise fades and the last thing has been put away, that is often when it hits. The quiet collapse. The full body shutdown. The moment you sit down and realise you have precisely f*ck all left in the tank.

It is worth it. It always is.
But it is also a lot.

So this is your annual reminder that if you feel oddly flat, emotional, or completely spent once the magic has arrived, you are not ungrateful. You are just a mama. And you probably carried far more than anyone ever noticed.
(For the record, I silently wept watching my daughter sing “I Believe in Angels” solo, so if you cried at a primary school hymn, welcome.)

I see you, you total badass. ❤️

Anybody who has ever attended our clinics will tell you that my favourite treatment of everything we offer is a liquid rhinoplasty. Why? Because people who dislike their nose don’t just mildly dislike it, they absolutely effing hate it. A new nose gives instant main character energy and it is right in the centre of your face. Even when someone is unsure about having a liquid rhinoplasty, it is one of those treatments that gets an immediate wow. The better your reaction, of course , the happier we are.

This entire transformation took only 15 minutes and the patient could not believe it. She genuinely looks like she has had a surgical rhinoplasty. We have been doing these for 15 years and can say, hopefully not immodestly, that we are experts in the true sense of the word. We perform around five of these every day, seven days a week, and it has one of the lowest complication rates of anything we do, contrary to popular belief. That is exactly what genuine expertise is for.

By adjusting the angle of her radix and smoothing the tip significantly, she looks as if she has had surgery (but for infinitely less risk). It also lasts a long time, usually around 18 months. We offer a half price top up at the halfway mark so you can maintain your result without paying the full amount again. This is the one treatment where we do not charge per mill. It is a set price regardless of how much or how little you need, and everything is fully reversible.

This treatment was performed in our local Manchester (Wilmslow) clinic, although we use the exact same protocol in every clinic around the world.

Most people have this done and immediately say, God I wish I had done this sooner. It’s practically zero down time and takes about 10 minutes for a fraction of the cost of the surgical alternative. Gamechanger ❤️

Anybody who has ever attended our clinics will tell you that my favourite treatment of everything we offer is a liquid rhinoplasty. Why? Because people who dislike their nose don’t just mildly dislike it, they absolutely effing hate it. A new nose gives instant main character energy and it is right in the centre of your face. Even when someone is unsure about having a liquid rhinoplasty, it is one of those treatments that gets an immediate wow. The better your reaction, of course , the happier we are.

This entire transformation took only 15 minutes and the patient could not believe it. She genuinely looks like she has had a surgical rhinoplasty. We have been doing these for 15 years and can say, hopefully not immodestly, that we are experts in the true sense of the word. We perform around five of these every day, seven days a week, and it has one of the lowest complication rates of anything we do, contrary to popular belief. That is exactly what genuine expertise is for.

By adjusting the angle of her radix and smoothing the tip significantly, she looks as if she has had surgery (but for infinitely less risk). It also lasts a long time, usually around 18 months. We offer a half price top up at the halfway mark so you can maintain your result without paying the full amount again. This is the one treatment where we do not charge per mill. It is a set price regardless of how much or how little you need, and everything is fully reversible.

This treatment was performed in our local Manchester (Wilmslow) clinic, although we use the exact same protocol in every clinic around the world.

Most people have this done and immediately say, God I wish I had done this sooner. It’s practically zero down time and takes about 10 minutes for a fraction of the cost of the surgical alternative. Gamechanger ❤️

Fat transfer vs filler is often one of the most biased conversations in aesthetics.
And the bias usually depends on who’s talking. A filler company will favour filler. A plastic surgeon will often (but not always) favour fat. None of that is surprising.

We don’t have an agenda.
We speak from experience and large numbers. We’re all doctors and surgeons and capable of doing both.

The hyaluronic acid filler we use is predictable, controllable, and fully reversible. If we need to dissolve it, we can do so within seconds. From a safety perspective, and huge patient numbers - that matters. A lot.

We deliberately work with low-density, less hydrophilic HA, because it behaves consistently and carries less immune stimulation risk in our hands than biostimulatory products, or the old school filler that is highly concentrated. That’s not a criticism of other treatments, it’s simply an honest reflection of what we see clinically every day, and evolving over hundreds of thousands of patients.

Fat transfer, in the right indication and with the right surgeon, can be outstanding. Under-eye nano-fat, in particular, can outperform filler, (and I’ve even had it myself with great results).

But fat is not predictable. Some patients retain nearly all of it. Others lose most of it. And once it’s there, you cannot simply take it out. We see patients regularly who come to us with fat transfer that they regret and cannot reverse. It’s often grown significantly as they’ve ebbed and flowed with weight.

So this isn’t about “fat bad, filler good” or the other way round.
It’s about predictability, reversibility, safety, and expertise.

Hydrophilic fillers behave differently around the eyes, fat behaves differently in different faces, and outcomes depend hugely on who is doing the treatment. Technique and judgement matter more than the product.

That’s the real conversation.
Not ideology. Not marketing. Just experience

Fat transfer vs filler is often one of the most biased conversations in aesthetics.
And the bias usually depends on who’s talking. A filler company will favour filler. A plastic surgeon will often (but not always) favour fat. None of that is surprising.

We don’t have an agenda.
We speak from experience and large numbers. We’re all doctors and surgeons and capable of doing both.

The hyaluronic acid filler we use is predictable, controllable, and fully reversible. If we need to dissolve it, we can do so within seconds. From a safety perspective, and huge patient numbers - that matters. A lot.

We deliberately work with low-density, less hydrophilic HA, because it behaves consistently and carries less immune stimulation risk in our hands than biostimulatory products, or the old school filler that is highly concentrated. That’s not a criticism of other treatments, it’s simply an honest reflection of what we see clinically every day, and evolving over hundreds of thousands of patients.

Fat transfer, in the right indication and with the right surgeon, can be outstanding. Under-eye nano-fat, in particular, can outperform filler, (and I’ve even had it myself with great results).

But fat is not predictable. Some patients retain nearly all of it. Others lose most of it. And once it’s there, you cannot simply take it out. We see patients regularly who come to us with fat transfer that they regret and cannot reverse. It’s often grown significantly as they’ve ebbed and flowed with weight.

So this isn’t about “fat bad, filler good” or the other way round.
It’s about predictability, reversibility, safety, and expertise.

Hydrophilic fillers behave differently around the eyes, fat behaves differently in different faces, and outcomes depend hugely on who is doing the treatment. Technique and judgement matter more than the product.

That’s the real conversation.
Not ideology. Not marketing. Just experience

Huge numbers of patients walking through our doors give us something better than hype. They give us real world audit. We never jump on new treatments unless we see consistent and undeniable results. No gimmicks. No fads. We are niche at expert level fillers and toxin and we train doctors/ surgeons every week.

Every year something new arrives. For the last couple of years it Morpheus has been a part of that. The buzz is loud but the results for most people seem not. About 90% of our patients tell us it simply was not worth the money. Many were never the right candidates and by the time they were sold three sessions it was too late. The money was spent.

One patient flew in from Saudi Arabia (where we open next year) after spending a fortune on Morpheus. She booked a seven ml FFR with us and walked out with glowing skin . Her words not ours. “This is so much better than everything I spent on Morpheus.” Why?

Because she never needed Morpheus in the first place. Her skin wasn’t really the right ilk to benefit. What she did have were subtle age & genetics related hollows that were gently restored with the correct density filler in tiny micro drops placed exactly where volume was lost in identical increments. Expert placement. Instant structure. Instant light reflection. It makes the skin look like it is glowing. It lasted years too.

We are not here to “rubbish” Morpheus. A very small number love it. We just have not met anyone evangelical about it and they all mention the pain. We are simply here to be honest and to guide you based on thousands of real patients not marketing trends, and to explain why we do - what we do. It seems that a lot of people will sell it to anybody that wants it, based upon aggressive marketing.

Tell us your experience. We are listening?

Huge numbers of patients walking through our doors give us something better than hype. They give us real world audit. We never jump on new treatments unless we see consistent and undeniable results. No gimmicks. No fads. We are niche at expert level fillers and toxin and we train doctors/ surgeons every week.

Every year something new arrives. For the last couple of years it Morpheus has been a part of that. The buzz is loud but the results for most people seem not. About 90% of our patients tell us it simply was not worth the money. Many were never the right candidates and by the time they were sold three sessions it was too late. The money was spent.

One patient flew in from Saudi Arabia (where we open next year) after spending a fortune on Morpheus. She booked a seven ml FFR with us and walked out with glowing skin . Her words not ours. “This is so much better than everything I spent on Morpheus.” Why?

Because she never needed Morpheus in the first place. Her skin wasn’t really the right ilk to benefit. What she did have were subtle age & genetics related hollows that were gently restored with the correct density filler in tiny micro drops placed exactly where volume was lost in identical increments. Expert placement. Instant structure. Instant light reflection. It makes the skin look like it is glowing. It lasted years too.

We are not here to “rubbish” Morpheus. A very small number love it. We just have not met anyone evangelical about it and they all mention the pain. We are simply here to be honest and to guide you based on thousands of real patients not marketing trends, and to explain why we do - what we do. It seems that a lot of people will sell it to anybody that wants it, based upon aggressive marketing.

Tell us your experience. We are listening?

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