Katherine Ryan has had a facelift at 42. Why do I feel betrayed? | Polly Hudson

. UK edition

Katherine Ryan
‘Topics others lie about she fronts up to as a default setting’ … Katherine Ryan. Photograph: Anthony Harvey/Shutterstock

I’m a fan of the comedian and her decision initially made me feel like a haggard loser. But famous women are not obliged to act according to other people’s wishes, writes Polly Hudson

Katherine Ryan’s podcast is called Telling Everybody Everything, and she does. The comedian is honest to a fault: her comments are regularly reported out of context to create clickbait news stories that give people the wrong idea of what she meant and of her as a human, but she doesn’t stop. Her commitment to truth, especially in the celebrity world she inhabits, is as unusual as it is admirable. Topics others lie about – by omission or openly – she fronts up to as a default setting. Such as cosmetic surgery.

On her most recent podcast episode, she confirmed that the operation she had told listeners about in December – not revealing the details because she feared that documenting the surgery could turn it into a work project – was a full facelift. Ryan is 42. (Side note: does this mean it won’t be a TV show? If so, big mistake. Huge.)

It’s probably unnecessary to clarify that I’m a fan. I love her sharp wit and intelligence, but also her spirit, her boldness, her way of moving through the world. This USP of telling everybody everything means that the parasocial relationship between Ryan and me is thriving. I believe not only that I know her – and her family – but that we’re friends, with much in common. That’s why this news has cut so deep, no pun intended.

I applaud her openness, especially when her peers insist that their youthful glow is down to drinking water, sleep, or using the miracle cream they happen to be promoting. But Ryan having a facelift at 42 is making me feel weird. Judged. Oddly … betrayed. Even though I am certain this wasn’t her intention.

I’m eight years older than her, and trying to accept ageing instead of being ashamed of it. Someone in their early 40s having £16,000-worth of work done makes it seem as if it’s not OK for gravity to take its devastating toll on me. As though I’m a bit of a haggard loser. Sticking two fingers up to misogynistic societal pressure by defiantly getting older – on our own terms, perhaps with the odd non-drastic tweakment en route to soften the blow – felt like the kind of stand my mate Katherine and I might have made together. Now I’m on my own.

The British Association of Aesthetic Plastic Surgeons has added fuel to this fire by reporting an 8% increase in facelifts in 2024 in the UK, while a survey by the American Academy of Facial Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery found that patients were getting increasingly younger. A paranoia-inducing 26%-32% of facelifts are now performed on those aged 35-55, the survey found.

Ryan’s justification for her decision – which, needless to say, she did not have to provide – was compelling: “I use my face for work. And it’s important that I recognise myself in the mirror as the woman that I feel like. And it’s important, I think, for my marriage that Bobby and I, we both get to enjoy the kids. I think that we should both have the same amount of physical damage.”

Ryan has been pregnant six times in five years. She told everyone everything about the baby losses she has endured, too. “Bobby’s still a hunk,” she continued. “And my face has gotten fat and thin and fat and thin and fat and thin … almost metaphorically, I needed to do something to reclaim my identity, to reclaim my autonomy, to claw back the face that I had in 2019.” Ryan gave a nod to those “who want to age totally naturally with zero intervention. God bless you, do that. I got a facelift for you. I didn’t do it for me. This was a selfless act.”

She’s joking, but as always, there is truth within. She didn’t have a facelift for me, and she wasn’t going to not have one for me, either. She didn’t ask anybody to form this vaguely creepy attachment to her – that was all me. We may convince ourselves of the opposite, but the famous women we enjoy have no obligation to us. It’s not their duty to set standards, or be positive role models: they owe us nothing. Her face, and body, are her business.

As a homage, a moment of radical honesty. I do not currently have a spare 16 grand kicking about to spend on my appearance. Can I be sure that I’d be taking this worthy moral stance if money were no object? Hand on heart, would I have a facelift if I had Katherine Ryan’s bank balance? The jury’s out (probably at a consultation with her surgeon).

• Polly Hudson is a freelance writer