This story is based on an interview with Heather Emerson, 42, of Austin, the founder of an international staffing agency. It has been edited for length and clarity.
How did I feel about the way I looked? It depended on the day. There were definitely times when I felt very pretty.
On other occasions, I would look in the mirror, pull up the skin on my face and neck, and see how I might look after a facelift. I thought my features looked heavy, and the negative thoughts were taking up a lot of brain space.
My husband, Faiez, and I were planning our annual goals in January 2025. I said I wanted surgery toward the end of the year, when I expected the business to slow down.
Faiez wasn’t exactly in favor of it, but he was tired of hearing me talk about possibly going ahead.
It was a case of either accepting it or making it into an action item and doing something about it. I’d actually booked the surgery several years ago after finding a reputable doctor in the US who charged $15,000.
However, I got COVID a few weeks before the surgery was scheduled. The surgeon didn’t want to go ahead. Six months later, when I tried to rebook it, his prices had tripled to $45,000. I suppose it was increased demand.
I chose a deep-plane facelift
However, in 2025, I looked abroad, where the costs were cheaper. I chose Turkey above Mexico and Brazil because the techniques seemed more state-of-the-art.
I did my research and booked a $15,000 surgery with Dr. Soner Karaali, based in Istanbul. The procedure consisted of a deep-plane facelift, neck lift, upper and lower blepharoplasty, micro fat transfer to my temples and upper eyelids, and a lip lift.
Obviously, I discussed it with Dr. Karaali, but I felt my early 40s were my sweet spot for having it done. You haven’t hit menopause, so your hormones haven’t changed.
You’re going to heal more quickly and build collagen, too. I know people who wait until their 50s and 60s and hear, time and time again, how they wish they’d done it earlier.
December came around, and Faiez and I booked first-class flights to Turkey. The agency was doing very well, and we had entered a new level of wealth.
By then, I’d decided to have lower-teeth veneers — I’d already had my upper teeth done — performed by a cosmetic dentist in Istanbul as well.
I had the $3,000 treatment during our first week in Turkey — where we stayed at a five-star hotel for $6,000 — before checking into the hospital where Dr. Karaali practiced.
I was in extraordinary pain
He marked up my face, and I didn’t feel nervous at all. I had done so much research that I felt safe and secure. If you trust your surgeon, you’re only excited.
The procedure took seven hours. I was in extraordinary pain when I woke up around 8 p.m. Some women can get up and walk immediately after the surgery, but I wasn’t so lucky. Tramadol wasn’t strong enough, and I ended up asking for morphine. I got it at 1 a.m., after five hours of screaming.
I spent two nights in the hospital before returning to the hotel. At 10 days post-op, the doctor removed the bigger staples and stitches.
I felt comfortable enough to fly home, but didn’t see the benefits for at least eight weeks. It was only when the swelling and bruising had fully dispersed that I began to see the difference.
I paid around $30,000 all-in for the trip, including the veneers, facelift, flights, and accommodation, and felt it was worth the expense.
I’m still aging gracefully
I looked like myself, but fresher. Eight months on, I don’t want to change or tweak anything. I notice little things like an unevenness in my lip and a small scar on my left eye. Some of the skin on my neck isn’t completely taut.
Still, I don’t believe in chasing perfection. I’ve told my story on Instagram and been very open. It’s very important that we talk about cosmetic surgery freely and without shame.
There’s this big push for “age gracefully,” but I feel like I’m aging gracefully. It’s only that my journey is different from the standard definition.
Women are scrutinized when they don’t look young or attractive enough. We’re scrutinized when we focus too much on our image. Why can’t there be space for everybody’s choices?
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