It’s no surprise that the number of women choosing to undergo cosmetic surgery jumped by almost six per cent in 2009, but the underreporting of the lesbian patients who make up that figure is.

In 2009, 32,859 UK women underwent aesthetic procedures. If we assume that five per cent of them were gay or bisexual (which is actually less than the UK’s average gay-to-straight ratio), it would suggest a figure of around 1,500 people. Which equates to a combined spend of around £500,000. Yet rarely do we ever hear about them.

Traditionally, regulatory bodies such as the British Association of Aesthetic Plastic Surgeons have seen no need to record the sexuality of patients, but a number of leading cosmetic surgeons testify to the increase in the number of lesbians resorting to surgery in their quest for the perfect body.

Dr Roberto Viel, acclaimed co-founder of Harley Street’s London Centre for Aesthetic Surgery, is one of them. ‘Gay women are definitely one of our fastest-growing customer bases,’ he tells DIVA. ‘Ten years ago, this wasn’t the case – lesbians seemed disinterested in changing their bodies for cosmetic reasons, but now – as their presence increasingly becomes part of mainstream culture – their representation is shapeshifting. Both externally, in how they are perceived by the world, and internally, within themselves. In short, they‘re feeling the same pressures straight women always have.’

But why would this be? Has a new L Word culture of glamorous, competitive, highly sexed lesbians created a pressure to look better? For Phillip Hodson, Fellow of the British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy, the answer is yes. ‘The L Word culture is almost certainly a factor,’ he says. ‘But whether we belong to the gay world or not, we all still live in the wider society and are subject to many of its whims and pressures – in this case the drive to be beautiful. Many gay women may have an extra incentive to achieve a “dramatisation of appearances” in order to self-define – either by trying to look like the world’s most beautiful female or the world’s most gorgeous androgyne.’

Yet it’s not just media pressure which promotes nips and tucks. Surgery is being marketed as less traumatic: psychologically, physically and fi nancially. Some companies – which will remain unnamed – even promote payment plans to encourage customers. Kate*, 24, had her breasts enlarged this way.

‘I’d only just finished university and couldn’t afford the up-front cost of the surgery, but a payment plan seemed an easy
alternative. Looking back, it wasn’t a mistake – but it could’ve been. My clothes fit better now and girls genuinely love my chest, but – having succumbed to borrowing money – I’m aware of the threat it poses. And how intoxicating it can
be. Luckily, I’m strict with myself and paid it off early, but surgery opens up many other issues – not least financial. For people in a vulnerable position it could be tricky.’

And according to Douglas McGeorge, BAAPS President and consultant plastic surgeon, an ethical stance is essential for good practice. He told DIVA: ‘The BAAPS has been increasingly concerned about the standard and style of today’s cosmetic surgery advertising, designed to encourage and incentivise people to undergo procedures. Surgery is a serious undertaking which requires realistic expectations and people should only proceed after proper consultation with a reputable and properly qualified clinician in an appropriate clinical setting.’

Alice*, 29, opted for the latter approach. A busy business analyst based in London, she had fat removed from her stomach through liposuction. ‘I’ve never been fat, but years of partying gradually led to the development of a beer belly,’ she told DIVA. ‘I’m tall, so it protruded a bit – and after my last relationship ended I hit a low and decided to do something about it. So I did.’ Three months later, Alice – who, at just 29, has also had botox – elected for fat removal at a cost of £7,000. Using a technique called Vaser – which employs ultra-sound technology to emulsify fats and sculpt the body – doctors used a small probe to deliver low-level ultrasonic vibrations to her fatty deposits which, once
emulsified, were removed through suction. Industry experts are touting this as the version 2.0 of liposuction.

‘I didn’t tell my family because the traditional image of surgery is drastic, but it was a breeze. I’m nervous at the thought of anaesthetic, which is normally enough to put me off, but the procedure didn’t require it. That, coupled with a hefty work bonus, was the lynchpin. And I haven’t looked back. I had fat removed from my love handles and across my abs. Within two weeks I was back on the scene and attracting attention. ‘I’ve reclaimed the six-pack I had when I was 18 without going to the gym three times a week. And I’m now in a new relationship too.’

Alice’s surgeon, Josh Berkowitz of London’s Wimpole Aesthetics Centre, spoke to us exclusively. He said: ‘Our clients are mostly women and naturally a proportion of them are gay. There was a time when this wasn’t the case, but there was also a time when skincare products for men didn’t exist, which seems inconceivable now. The same is happening
with lesbians and cosmetic surgery. It’s an untapped market that’s coming out. Astute practices are waking up to this.’

Yet for Alice, the surgery had only one drawback – the response of her peers. ‘Lesbians having cosmetic surgery is perceived as some betrayal of feminism, but that’s just not true,’ she insists. ‘I found it empowering. More so than burning my bra. I can be a gay woman and embrace beauty. And I can be confident about it. That is the biggest realisation I’ve had from this whole experience. That I can feel beautiful by taking control. If I were a gay man nobody would think twice, so really the problem rests with the people who judge me.’

Fellow DIVA reader, Sandra Wilson, is another example. She had the same Vaser liposuction surgery at London’s EF MediSpa in Kensington – only this time on her face. ‘I’d disliked my chin for a number of years – even being very sporty I always had it. It made me very self-conscious around my team-mates, in photos and going out. The rest of my body I was perfectly content with, although I was always nagged at by my swimming coach to lose further weight – even though I was actually within the body fat parameters of top sports people.

‘Having finally stopped the level of sport I was used to for 20 years and going through a very diffi cult time in my personal life, I’d let myself go. I used to be chatted up by gay men who thought I was one of them, which was the
tipping point.

‘Perhaps for lesbians there was a time when it didn’t matter what you looked like. I have many friends who are comfortable in their body and have lovely partners, but it never seemed to work with me.’

Thus, within a matter of weeks, Sandra was paying £3,500 to get unwanted fat extracted from her face. But did she feel better for it? ‘Now I’ve had the surgery I think it’s wonderful. I love looking at myself in pictures, which wasn’t the case before. I would definitely recommend it,’ she adds. ‘But, saying that, I’m unlikely to have anything else done to
my body.’

A decision which, according to counsellor Hodson, is crucial in getting the balance right. ‘To get the work done, your narcissism has to overpower your mental bodyguard – you know, the one reminding you that all operations
can go wrong and you may die on the table,’ he says. ‘You also have to reject your existing self – to conclude that it is inadequate for god’s purposes. Lastly, you must be a believer – that with better boobs and hips you actually will be
happier. But will you really? I say good luck.’

*Names have been changed.

For more information visit:
baaps.org.uk
wimpoleaesthetics.co.uk
efmedispa.com
lcas.com
philliphodson.co.uk