The Journey Back to Self: One Man’s Story of Cosmetic Procedure Addiction

In a world dominated by filtered social media images and unrealistic beauty standards, Christopher Sharratt’s story stands as a powerful reminder of how easily the pursuit of “perfection” can spiral into obsession. At just 25 years old, this young man from Staffordshire, UK, has already experienced a lifetime’s worth of lessons about self-acceptance and the dangers of cosmetic enhancement addiction. His journey began innocently enough at age 17 when he lied about his age to receive his first dermal filler injections. What started as a simple procedure quickly evolved into a psychological dependence that would cost him approximately £3,500 (about $4,400) – “half a house deposit,” as he now ruefully acknowledges. The immediate gratification of post-injection swelling created a deceptive cycle: “You have a mil and your lips swell up… And you’re like, oh my God, this swelling looks so good. And a week later, the swelling goes down and you’re like, oh c***, I need to go and get another mil.” This pattern highlights a phenomenon that addiction expert Dr. Cali Estes describes not as chemical dependency but as psychological addiction, where each injection delivers a dopamine hit similar to receiving likes on social media posts.

The psychological aspects of Sharratt’s filler addiction reveal how insidiously these procedures can affect self-perception. Dr. Estes describes this as “aesthetic blindness,” where individuals gradually lose perspective on how dramatically they’ve altered their appearance. The brain adapts quickly to each new enhancement, normalizing increasingly extreme changes and pushing the person to seek more dramatic results. This distortion of self-image can be particularly dangerous because it happens incrementally, making it difficult for the individual to recognize when they’ve crossed into unhealthy territory. For Sharratt, this blindness persisted until the COVID-19 lockdown forced an involuntary break from his treatments. During this period of reflection, he found himself looking at old photographs and experiencing a profound realization: “I actually didn’t look that bad. I should have been a bit nicer to myself.” This moment of clarity became the catalyst for his decision to reverse years of facial modifications and reclaim his natural appearance.

The journey back to his natural look proved physically and emotionally challenging for Sharratt. The reversal process required four painful rounds of dissolver injections to remove the accumulated filler from his lips alone. “Cheeks and jaw were easy to get rid of, but I actually had to start pulling my lips out and putting it in the back because there was nowhere else to fill out,” he explains, painting a vivid picture of the invasive nature of these procedures. Beyond the physical discomfort, Sharratt faced the emotional challenge of redefining his identity without the facial features he had come to associate with his appearance. Many individuals who undergo cosmetic enhancement experience a similar psychological adjustment when returning to their natural appearance. The brain must recalibrate once again, this time to recognize and accept features it had previously rejected. This transition can be jarring and requires significant emotional resilience, especially when an individual has built their self-concept around their enhanced appearance.

One of the most troubling aspects of Sharratt’s story involves the lack of oversight and regulation in the cosmetic enhancement industry, particularly in the UK. He describes a system where fillers are often administered in salon settings without proper medical supervision or age verification. “There needs to be so much more regulation in place,” he insists, adding emphatically, “No 17-year-old should be going to get fillers. Nobody.” This contrasts with the United States, where dermal fillers are FDA-regulated with age restrictions and guidelines requiring administration by licensed medical professionals. Even more concerning is the lack of informed consent regarding long-term risks. Sharratt notes that “nobody tells you that it doesn’t dissolve completely… It moves around your face,” and warns that overstretched lips and other facial features may remain permanently altered. These revelations highlight a critical gap in consumer protection within an industry that continues to grow exponentially worldwide.

The medical risks associated with cosmetic fillers extend far beyond aesthetic concerns. Dr. Estes points out potentially severe complications, including blindness in extreme cases, and emphasizes the particular dangers for individuals with body dysmorphia or addiction tendencies. The psychological component of cosmetic procedures remains largely unaddressed in clinical settings, with few practices implementing screening for mental health issues before administering treatments. This gap in care creates a vulnerable population of patients who may use cosmetic enhancements as a maladaptive coping mechanism rather than an informed aesthetic choice. Sharratt’s experience underscores the need for a more holistic approach to cosmetic procedures that addresses both physical and psychological well-being, with appropriate screening and ethical limits to protect vulnerable individuals from potential harm.

Today, Sharratt embraces his natural appearance with newfound confidence. Freed from the cycle of enhancement and dissatisfaction, he reports feeling more approachable and at ease in social situations. “More people come up to me now than ever,” he shares, noting the irony that his natural face actually facilitates better human connection than his enhanced appearance ever did. His story serves as a powerful counternarrative to prevailing beauty culture, suggesting that authentic self-acceptance may be more attractive than any cosmetic intervention. By sharing his experience publicly, Sharratt hopes to spark meaningful conversation about the dangers of unregulated cosmetic procedures and the psychological toll of beauty addiction. “Hopefully I can be one of the few people to put their hand up, say I’ve made a mistake, and we need to do something about this,” he states with conviction. In a culture obsessed with external appearance and quick fixes, his journey reminds us that true confidence comes from self-acceptance rather than a syringe, and that sometimes, the most beautiful version of ourselves is the one we were born with.