I took one look at Kate Beckinsale in those gaunt photos and a sad truth about over-50s women suddenly dawned on me, writes AMANDA GOFF

Like many of you, my jaw hit the floor when I saw those photos of British actress Kate Beckinsale’s new face at Variety’s 2024 Power of Women event.

Kate, 51, and a natural beauty by anyone’s standards, appears to have traded in her natural striking features in favor of a brand new face – and body – that makes her look like a carbon copy of every reality star and Insta influencer out there.

The woman in the photos was not the stylish Hollywood star Kate Beckinsale who I had always found so refined in that English rose way, but a woman who had been cut, stretched, injected, smothered, poked, sucked and stuffed into something unrecognizable.

I’m not a plastic surgeon (although I’d like to be, I’d have a much more impressive real estate portfolio), so I won’t list all the cosmetic procedures I think she’s had… but if I were a gambling girl, I think to start a facelift, neck lift and ‘fox eye’ surgery.

Let me make this clear: I have long been an advocate for a woman’s right to do whatever she wants with her body, to look and feel good. Damn, I did it!

And Kate do look beautiful – certainly better than me on a good day.

But what I’m wondering is… does it feel good to look like this, Kate? Are you happier? And do you do it for yourself? Or are you doing it to keep up with the ridiculous standards that Hollywood – and society in general – imposes on women who dare to live past 50.

My guess is no.

My belief is – and I can say this from my own experience – that plastic surgery does not necessarily make you happier. In some cases you may feel even worse. It can make you feel even more insecure and self-critical.

I am no stranger to going under the knife. I’ve worked in two careers where appearance was important: as a beauty editor at glossy magazines and in the porn industry. (Believe it or not, it was the magazine job that made me wear more makeup. Men who paid for my services didn’t care half as much about plastic surgery as other women.)

I’m 50, and in those years I have to admit that my surgery has gone a bit far. Here’s my list and counting: a nose job, lower facelift, an upper eyelid job, a labiaplasty (Google it), five breast enlargements, and of course Botox and fillers, the last of which I stopped doing and resolved two years ago .

Like Kate, I also look unrecognizable compared to the fresh-faced, young twenty-something I used to be. I can’t deny that – and that’s why I don’t judge her at all.

But here’s what I’m willing to admit: absolutely none of this has made me happier in the long run. In fact, I deeply regret it.

My surgeons were all fantastic, the best in their field. They carefully explained the risks of each procedure to me and I had several consultations before I was allowed to proceed. This is actually the law in Australia: patients must have a referral from a GP before undergoing cosmetic or plastic surgery appeared to be mentally fit. I also filled out a form with questions about my mental health and body dysmorphia.

So the problem was not with my surgeons or the procedures. The problem was me.

The main reason I know plastic surgery can never make you truly happy is because no matter what you’ve done, it will never be enough. Never.

I’ve had countless boob jobs (bigger and bigger) because I thought it would change my life. That didn’t happen. Having big breasts actually made life more complicated – especially for men. They stared, fixated, obsessed, drooling – or grinning – at me. I became more of a bimbo with big breasts than a woman with brains.

And they were never big enough. Even after my last boob job a few years ago, going from a decent B cup to a DD, I was already planning the next one.

I had a lower facelift, which looks great, but now I’m already wondering when would be an acceptable time to do another quick nip and tuck.

My eyelids sagged over the years, so I went under the knife as a 50th birthday present. But now I notice a little droop coming back, so I’m thinking about going back already.

The labiaplasty was again great, but nowadays no one sees my nether regions. I prefer celibacy to casual sex. To be honest, I’d rather have a cup of tea than get naked with someone.

I had my nose done because I thought it would change my life. That didn’t happen. It only changed the shape of my nose. I actually miss my Persian hooter because it gave me character.

Do I understand what I mean? You will never be satisfied. Because the adjustments don’t last forever, and because one day you catch yourself in the mirror and fixate on a feature that isn’t perfect, and you realize, assuming you have the money, that you can do it quite easily and before you can repair. Know that you have another consultation.

I remember crying in the car after breast augmentation. I was in a lot of pain, I felt terribly depressed and it dawned on me that nothing in my life had changed except the size of my breasts. “What’s wrong with me?” I sobbed to a friend.

Ladies, use me as a cautionary tale. You may think that having that procedure, that adjustment, that lift, those silicone balloons — or, heaven forbid, a Brazilian butt lift — will make you happier, will change your life, will make you feel complete, as I thought that it would be with me. .

But believe me, that’s really not the case. It may change the way you physically look or the way clothes fit on your body, but you will still be the same person inside. And if you don’t like that person, fake boobs or a bigger butt won’t fix that.

Kate, you look great, but of course you always did. I just hope you’re doing well where it counts: inside.