There comes a point in your early thirties when you catch your reflection in the bathroom mirror under lighting that should honestly be illegal. You tilt your head, raise your eyebrows, frown slightly, smile too wide, and suddenly you are six inches from the mirror analysing your forehead like it owes you money. This, I’ve discovered, is the very beginning of what I am calling The Aesthetic Fear.
It is not a hatred of ageing, not even close. I think ageing is a privilege, one that motherhood has only reinforced. But somewhere between dehydration lines, late nights, and a skincare routine that feels like it should be doing more than it is, I have found myself standing on the edge of the aesthetics world. Curious, informed, intrigued, and yet… absolutely terrified to dip a toe in.
Noticing the First Changes
The first thing I noticed was dehydration. Not dramatic wrinkles, not anything that screams panic, just subtle fine lines beginning to settle into my forehead, the kind that only show up when you are tired, stressed, or pulling a facial expression that should probably be retired. They are small, but once you see them, you cannot unsee them. I have tried everything in my power to convince myself that it is simply dry skin, and sometimes I succeed, other times I do not.
What makes it harder is knowing that a lot of this pressure comes from myself, but I would be lying if I said wider society did not play a part. We live in a world where looking “well maintained” is subtly praised, while visible ageing is often framed as something to fix. It is a strange place to sit mentally when you love ageing but still want to look like yourself, just… well-rested.
Loving Ageing, But Wanting Options
I genuinely love the idea of ageing. I love that my face tells a story, that my body has done extraordinary things, and that lines will eventually show a life fully lived. What I do not love is the idea of harsh lines prematurely ageing me beyond my years if there are safe, thoughtful ways to soften them. For me, it is not about erasing anything, it is about maintenance, care, and confidence.
I have tried to address this through skincare, but if you have ever gone down that rabbit hole, you will know how overwhelming it becomes very quickly. Acids, actives, retinols, peptides, serums with names that sound like pharmaceutical trials. My routine remains intentionally simple and hydration focused, because anything more sends my OCD and anxiety into a spiral. Skincare helps, but I know it has limits.
My Very Small Toe in the Aesthetics Pool
Technically, I am not entirely new to aesthetics. I have had lip filler once, and Botox previously, but only to reduce the amount of gum I show when I smile. It was never about smoothing lines or altering my face, and I was very intentional with that choice. The experiences themselves were fine, but they also made me acutely aware of how permanent even “small” decisions can feel.
Now, my curiosity leans more towards preventative treatments. Botox as a way to stop fine lines becoming deeply set, and perhaps exploring other options that support skin health and ageing rather than chasing perfection. I want to approach this from an informed, slow, and considered place, which is easier said than done when social media shows instant transformations every five seconds.
The Fear Beneath the Curiosity
If I am honest, the fear is layered. I am scared of looking less like myself, of tipping from refreshed into plastic fantastic without realising it. I worry about overdoing it, about becoming reliant on procedures, about the financial commitment, and about the ongoing maintenance that no one really talks about. And yes, I worry about what happens if something goes wrong.
At the same time, I am realistic. I do not want to bury my head in the sand now and look back in a decade wishing I had taken preventative steps when my skin was still responsive. I believe there is a middle ground, one that respects ageing while also acknowledging that modern treatments exist for a reason. Finding that balance is where the fear lives.
Motherhood and Personal Identity
Motherhood has made me profoundly grateful for my body. It has deepened my respect for ageing, resilience, and everything my body continues to do for me daily. But becoming a mother does not mean I have stopped wanting to feel like myself. Wanting to look my best is not about vanity, it is about self-connection.
I do not want personal care to fall by the wayside because I am now someone’s mum. If anything, I want to model a version of womanhood that embraces autonomy, choice, and self-respect. That includes being honest about aesthetics, maintenance, and the realities of wanting to feel confident in your own skin.
Being Open About the Journey
I am very much of the mindset that if someone wants to change something about their appearance, that is entirely their choice. My personal brand has always centred around doing what feels right for you, without apology. For that reason, I am comfortable being open about exploring aesthetics, even while acknowledging my fear around it.
I would love to hear from others who have taken this step thoughtfully, whether that is Botox, skin boosters, or other treatments. Sharing experiences helps demystify the process and removes some of the shame or secrecy that still lingers around these conversations. In this day and age, there are incredible treatments available, and it feels important to talk about them honestly.
Conclusion: Curiosity Without Commitment
The aesthetic fear, for me, is not about rejecting ageing; it is about approaching the future with intention. I am not rushing, not booking appointments blindly, and not trying to become someone else. But I am allowing myself to be curious, informed, and open to options that help me feel like the best version of myself.
I know I want to try something soon, and when I do, I will share it openly, thoughtfully, and without pretending I am fearless. Because if there is one thing I have learnt in my early thirties, it is that growth often lives right on the edge of discomfort, mirror lighting be damned.