17/11/2025
I used to think I was the girl who had it all figured out.
I was young, convinced I knew everything, and absolutely certain I was beating the system when it came to aesthetics. In my head, everyone else was being ripped off… and I was the clever one who knew all the “right people” and all the “good deals.”
Back then, all that really mattered to me was how I looked.
If it promised to make my appearance better, I could justify almost anything – the setting, the price, the lack of information. As long as I walked out with fuller lips, I’d call it a win.
Oh, how wrong I was.
There is one appointment that will forever live in my memory.
I arrived expecting some kind of clinic feel. A reception area, a treatment room, at least a sense of structure and professionalism.
Instead, I walked into her kitchen.
Not a converted treatment room near the kitchen.
Not a clinical, purpose-built space.
Her actual, everyday kitchen.
Cupboards, fridge, tea towel on the oven, bits and pieces across the worktops. It looked like somewhere you’d make a sandwich, not inject someone’s face.
Then she walked in.
White coat, no badge, just a first name and a breezy hello. And that is when I noticed it: the smell of alcohol on her breath.
The version of me now would have walked straight out.
But the younger me? The one who thought she knew it all, whose whole world revolved around her appearance, and who secretly felt a bit “cool” for knowing these off-the-grid places?
She stayed.
In fact, she sat at the kitchen table feeling oddly proud of herself for not going to a “boring” clinic. It felt edgy. Insider. Like I was part of some secret world where you did not need paperwork or formalities.
There were no medical forms.
No questions about my health or medication.
No proper consultation or discussion about risks and expectations.
The whole “consultation” before the needle appeared took under a minute.
No consent form.
No explanation of what product was being used.
No talk of complications or what would happen if something went wrong.
No structured aftercare advice.
She opened a kitchen drawer, pulled out bits and pieces, drew something up into a syringe and off we went. I remember thinking, “This feels… different,” but I pushed that thought away because I was focused on one thing only: how my lips would look.
If the end result looked good and it had not cost much, I was willing to ignore every alarm bell.
I left feeling quite pleased with myself.
“Such a good deal, hardly any swelling, I’ve found someone amazing,” I told people.
Then things started to get strange.
Messages went unanswered.
Calls were ignored.
Her social media disappeared.
People who had recommended her could not reach her either.
She went full ghost mode.
One day she was there in her kitchen with the white coat and the drawer of surprises. The next day it was as if she had never existed.
Later, we found out why.
She had not just stopped working. She was serving eighteen months in prison for a whole array of things linked to what she had been doing. Around the same time, it came out that she had been using fake products – and at one point had literally been injecting salty water into people’s lips.
Salty. Water.
I had sat in someone’s kitchen, smelled alcohol on their breath, watched them pull things from a drawer, and let them inject my face with something that was never what I believed it to be. And I genuinely thought I was being clever.
That younger version of me, who believed appearance was everything and safety was just “fuss,” had a lot to learn.
And this is exactly why there is absolutely no judgment from me about whatever your aesthetics journey looks like.
If you have chased bargains…
If you have gone somewhere that now makes you cringe…
If you have trusted the wrong person…
If you have had treatments you now question…
You are not alone.
You are not silly or shallow. You were doing your best with the information, pressures and insecurities you had at the time. It is a crazy industry. The marketing, the offers, the filters, the confusing language – it can make anyone feel unsure and embarrassed to ask basic questions.
In my world now, nothing you ask is stupid or silly.
You can ask what I am using.
You can ask where it comes from.
You can ask what happens if something goes wrong.
You can ask why it costs what it costs.
You can ask me to explain everything, as many times as you need.
You will not be judged for not knowing.
You will not be judged for what you have done before.
You will not be judged for caring about how you look.
That is the heart of House of Individuals Medical Aesthetics.
If you want treatments in a genuinely medical, regulated setting – not a kitchen with a drawer full of surprises – this is your safe space. A place where your questions are welcomed, your concerns are taken seriously, and your face is treated as priceless, not discounted.
If you are ready for the next chapter of your aesthetics journey to feel calmer, safer and more informed than my kitchen-table era ever did, you are welcome to book in with House of Individuals Medical Aesthetics.
Send a message, ask your questions, come for a consultation.
No judgment. No pressure. Just honest guidance, real products, and a medical approach that puts your wellbeing above everything else – including your lips.
