WHY IT’S OK to do SOMETHING to your FACE in your 40S

My stepmum wore no make-up, had hairy legs and armpits and often wore a boiler suit. She used to call people “plastic” if they wore too much make-up. Growing up, I’d laugh like every other woman when I saw someone who’d had terrible cosmetic surgery. There were lots of examples as many celebrities tried things out for the first time and got it wrong.

In my early 30s I knew I’d never be one of those poor saps that chased the fountain of youth. Besides, it was undignified to do that all the time, right? I changed my mind as soon as I hit my mid-40s and woke up each morning looking like I’d had no sleep, drunk a litre of vodka and smoked 40 fags.

Aged 43 I’d also found myself competing at work with women half my age. I hoped that looking less tired would help me stay in the game and would also make me feel more confident after coming back from maternity leave to discover that my role had been changed and I was now being bossed about by people I’d hired 12 months previously.

You may still be shouting at me that I should have tackled my position at work and the industry I worked in, instead of just getting Botox. And you’re right.

But I had wrinkles and I didn’t like them.

At the clinic, the doctor showed me some examples of work she had done on other patients. We then had a quick discussion and I very quickly decided to go ahead with her suggestions.

“I’ll be doing injections here and here,” she said, holding up a mirror so I could see where she was pointing – just to the side of each eye and the space between my eyebrows. “And then we will do a bit of filler here and here,” she said, pointing at a space near my cheekbone and another near my mouth.

“So, are you sure you’re happy to go ahead?” she asked.

I nodded.

Half an hour later I emerged from the clinic. About 10 days passed. Ten days with no noticeable side effects, bar a small bruise on the side of my head that was easily covered with concealer.

No feminists came knocking on my door. I wasn’t struck down by a bolt of lightning bursting out of the hand of an angry female goddess.

I just looked less tired.