Most women over 50 have done that thing where you stand in front of a mirror, put your fingers on your cheeks and then move the flesh out towards your ears to see how you might look with a facelift.
I also like to grab the back of my neck to see how good it would be if I could throw a neck lift in with my fantasy facelift and banish the saggy turkey wobble.
But over the past 12 years or so, the thing I have done the most is put my thumbs underneath my eyebrows to shift them up half an inch. Hey presto! Suddenly I have eyelids and look refreshed and alert – not exhausted and permanently hacked off with the world as I do the second I remove my thumbs.
Now I no longer need to do that because, after years of dithering, I finally took the plunge and underwent bilateral upper eye blepharoplasty to remove the excess skin that has been slowly sliding down towards my eyelids.
To say I’m delighted with the result is an understatement. I no longer need to manually move my loose skin aside to apply my eye make-up and since I had the procedure done, no random strangers have told me to ‘cheer up love,’ or ask, ‘who died?’
Blepharoplasty is the third most common cosmetic surgery in the UK, behind breast reductions in second and breast enlargement in the top spot. However, it’s the fastest growing, experiencing a 13 per cent increase in demand in 2024. Aged 59 I fall into the age bracket most likely to seek the procedure.
My chosen surgeon Professor Saul Rajak says: ‘Demand is definitely rising. My typical patient market has always been the 40 to 60 bracket. A lot them are thinking “hang on, I don’t smoke, I don’t drink, I eat healthily, and I have a good skincare routine and yet I look tired.”’
When it comes to dishing out beautiful eyes I was definitely at the back of the queue. I’ve never been blessed with the big, saucer-like ones some people are lucky to have – instead mine are small, downward slanting and a dull, sludgy brown colour.
Claudia, pictured left before and right after the procedure, says it has rejuvenated her
Until I hit my mid-forties I was always able to make the most of them with clever make up techniques. However, as my face aged and my eyes became more and more hooded (dermatochalasis is the medical term) it became ever harder to disguise, especially on my left eye where the drooping skin started to creep onto my eyelid.
I turned to Botox which not only smoothed my forehead but, for several years, was also able to give me a slight lift at the far end of each eyebrow to raise some of the hooded skin.
At 46, I went for an initial consultation about a possible blepharoplasty, but the consultant, an all-round general cosmetic surgeon, said I needed a brow lift instead. He suggested making an incision at the top of my forehead to pull the skin back. But not only would that be an expensive, major operation, he informed me it would also increase the size of my forehead by about a centimetre. Given that it’s already deep enough to land a plane on, that wasn’t an appealing prospect.
Instead, I ploughed on with the Botox until it eventually stopped working when the hooding around my eyes became too heavy to lift. Instead of giving me a temporary brow lift, the toxin brought my brow down, making me look miserable and sinister. Never mind ‘resting bitch face,’ this was more a case of ‘resting serial killer face’.
I quit Botox as I entered my fifties, but my ageing eyes continued to bother me. When I smiled they all but disappeared and in photographs I looked tired and sullen. There’s something quite unsettling about being a happy, fun person, yet looking the total opposite. I didn’t want to look younger – I’m not a woman pushing 60 who thinks it’s possible to pass for 40 – I just didn’t want to look so tired and angry all the time.
As much as I wanted to be rid of my hooded eyes, I battled with my conscience and fears when it came to surgery. Spending thousands on a vanity procedure when my house was in desperate need of repairs didn’t seem right, not to mention the shuddering thought of someone slicing flesh so close to my eyes.
However, I couldn’t stop obsessing, to the point where friends were telling me ‘just get it done for god’s sake!’ Eventually, after a great deal of research, I went for another consultation.
This year I’ve lost 50 pounds after spending six months on fat jabs. I’ve dropped from a size 18 to a size 10 and have never felt or looked better. Miraculously, I escaped the dreaded ‘Ozempic face, ’ and suddenly spending a few grand fixing my eyes on the ‘new me’ seemed less wasteful.
This time, instead of a general cosmetic surgeon, I decided I wanted a specialist. An ophthalmologist (eye surgeon) with an interest in oculoplastics (eyelid surgery).
At my consultation with Professor Rajak, in Brighton, he said he thought I’d get a good result from upper eye blepharoplasty. He showed me examples of his work and discussed what a realistic outcome would be, explaining that it’s not an operation that is going to shave decades off someone’s appearance. ‘I have one of the best jobs because it’s one of the few cosmetic procedures where people aren’t expecting to look years younger or hugely different and I don’t think you can say that about people seeking surgeries like boob jobs or facelifts.
‘Many of my patients will say they don’t even want anyone to notice they’ve had work. Mostly, if people do detect a change, it tends to be that the person looks well and refreshed. That’s what we’re aiming for. To be honest it’s very rare that I have a consultation with someone who tells me they want to look 20 years younger. If they did, I would say it’s totally unrealistic.’
Some eye procedures work better than Botox at making you look younger
As my left eye is far more hooded than my right it would require more skin removal, resulting in both eyes being symmetrical for the first time in my life.
The procedure costs £3,200 including two follow up appointments. I dithered for another three months, worried that I wouldn’t be able to tolerate having the operation done under local anaesthetic as Mr Rajak recommends.
I’m ridiculously squeamish when it comes to anything to do with eyes. I can’t wear contact lenses because (despite three lessons at an optician) I can’t stand putting them in. How could I possibly lie on an operating table while someone took a scalpel to the skin over my eyeball?
I was reassured that if, on the day, I felt unable to go ahead with local anaesthetic, then sedation would be available but that very few people ever needed it.
On the day of the surgery, Mr Rajak stressed that it’s one of the safest cosmetic surgeries you can have but that he was still obliged to outline the possible risks, including blindness which, although rare ( it’s never happened to any of his patients), occurs in around one in 100,000 people in the UK every year, usually as a result of infection.
Less serious risks include being unable to fully close my eyes following surgery and a one in 100 chance of visible scarring.
After signing the consent form, I had to lie down while Mr Rajak spent a long time drawing on my face. I had to lie down, sit up, open my eyes and close them over and over again until he was satisfied the markings were just right. Numbing drops were put in my eyes and I was asked if I wanted any music playing in the operating room (yes please, anything but jazz) and then it was time for the anaesthetic.
Having a needle stuck into your eyelids and the skin around it was never going to be pleasant, but although it was on the painful side it was perfectly bearable and all over in two minutes.
I was told that the surgery would take up to an hour, but in the end it only took 40 minutes, and I didn’t feel a thing. I was aware of some tugging and pulling but Mr Rajak and his nurse Claire chatted to me throughout the operation, covering everything from music and reality TV to politics.
As the wounds were cauterized, I was warned that I might detect a ‘cooking bacon’ smell. It was one of the few times I was grateful to have permanently lost my smell through Covid. I can’t say I would have relished the aroma of my own burning flesh.
When the surgery was complete, I was given a hand mirror and could see a thin line of stitches across both eyes, still oozing slightly. The bruising and swelling had yet to kick in, and I was told to expect my appearance to get steadily worse over the next few days.
‘Healing is so random,’ said Professor Rajak. ‘Surgical decisions play a big part, such as how well you control bleeding during the operation and how neat your incisions and stitches are. Some patients will experience the most horrendous bruising and others hardly any.’
I was sent home with a cool gel eye mask to apply twice a day and some antibiotic cream to place on the incisions until the stitches came out 10 days later. Given my fair skin and the fact that bumping into the furniture around my house results in huge, disc sized bruises, I was pretty certain I’d end up look like I was wearing Halloween make up.
To help reduce swelling, it’s advised that you sleep propped upright for a few days. I tried and couldn’t do it. It caused me lower back pain and in the end I just gave up and slept on my side as usual, deciding sleep was more important than swelling control.
The next morning I woke up to eyes that had glued together. Lying flat meant some of the bleeding had dripped into my eyes. My lids were also extremely swollen – but at least I could see them!
My eyes were tight and gritty, similar to how they feel during hay fever season, but there was absolutely no pain. Although my vision was blurred immediately after the surgery it was perfectly fine the next day and I was able to look at my laptop, read and watch TV with no issues.
On day two, the bruising started to come out, leaving big purple splodges under each eye. Even my cheeks and lips were swollen. I’ve never had fillers but it was useful to know how I might look if I did – like a geriatric chipmunk, in case you’re wondering. I think I’ll save my money.
The only way I dared to leave the house in the first week was hidden behind giant, oversized sunglasses. But by day eight I looked pretty human again with most of the bruising and swelling subsided. Even with the stitches in place I could already see how different I looked now that all the hooding had been removed.
My stitches came out on day 10 and it was a welcome relief as they had become infuriatingly itchy as the wounds had started to heal and knit together, and it was an effort not to scratch and rub them. It took just a few painless minutes to remove them and for Mr Rajak to declare himself very happy with his handiwork. I had to agree. My eyes were perfectly symmetrical with strong, visible eyelids.
I was told to expect most swelling and bruising to have gone at around the six-week mark (it did) but that it will take three months before they are completely healed, at which point I’ll have a check-up appointment.
Blepharoplasty is a procedure where revision surgery is not uncommon but I’m delighted with my outcome and won’t need it. Better still the result should last for around 15 years.
‘Revisions are usually about needing to balance up the symmetry,’ says Mr Rajak. ‘I will perform it on roughly one in 40 patients where I need to take a tiny fold more skin. It gives me some job satisfaction that I have a very low revision rate. I think the average is around one in ten.’
After years of toing and froing I am so glad I took the plunge. Although I had no burning desire to look younger, I think I do and so do my friends. And even though the shape of my eyes hasn’t changed, somehow, they appear bigger.
Previously I’d spend ages blending different eyeshadows in an attempt to widen my eyes – now a flick of mascara is all that’s needed and I’m good to go.
An unlikely side effect is that, prior to surgery, I assumed I would go back to Botox after my eyes were fixed. Now I don’t want to. I rather like having an expressive face and an unfrozen brow. There’s also a chance that, thanks to the blepharoplasty, my forehead could end up looking younger anyhow.
‘There’s an interesting effect that comes with having blepharoplasty and you’ll notice it over the next few months,’ says Mr Rajak. ‘You’ve spent so long raising your eyebrows because the excess skin was annoying you, it was subconscious – but now you’ve had the blepharoplasty the brain will realise you no longer need to do that. So, in a positive way, it will feel like the brows have dropped and the forehead is a bit flatter because you’re not wrinkling it.’
My procedure has left me looking fresh faced and rejuvenated in a way Botox never did. My only regret is that I didn’t get it done years ago.
