Watching my jawline disappear in the mirror
I honestly didn’t think I would be the kind of person to look into procedures for my face. For the longest time, I just blamed the pandemic weight gain. You know how it is—you spend months sitting at home, ordering takeout because it’s convenient, and suddenly you catch a glimpse of yourself in a Zoom call and wonder where your jawline went. I managed to drop a few kilograms through basic home workouts, but that specific roll under my chin? It just didn’t budge. It was like it had decided to make a permanent home there. I tried massaging it, I tried those ridiculous posture exercises, but whenever I looked down at my phone, the reflection in the screen made it look like I had aged ten years overnight.
Walking into the clinic near Gangnam Station
I eventually made an appointment at a clinic near Gangnam Station because a friend said they had decent reviews. The whole process felt a bit surreal. I walked in, and they were playing some generic upbeat pop music, which made the atmosphere feel more like a hair salon than a medical office. I told them I was mainly concerned about the double chin and the general fullness around my lower jaw. They didn’t really try to upsell me on a full face lift, thankfully, but they did mention that a combination of local fat removal and some firming device like an Ultra V might work better than just one thing. The cost estimate was around 1.5 million won, which caught me off guard, but I was already there, so I just nodded like I understood the technical details.
The reality of the recovery phase
Nobody tells you that the worst part isn’t the procedure itself; it’s the two weeks afterward. I thought I’d be back to normal in a day or two. Instead, I looked like a bloated chipmunk. My face was swollen in ways I didn’t think were physically possible. I had to wear this compression garment around my head at night, and honestly, it was the most uncomfortable thing I’ve ever worn. I kept waking up in the middle of the night because the edges would dig into my ears. My mom kept asking why I was wearing a weird bandage, and I just told her I had a minor skin issue. I didn’t want to explain that I paid a decent chunk of my savings just to feel self-conscious for another ten days.
Trying to manage the swelling at home
I spent a lot of time watching videos about lymphatic drainage massages. Apparently, you’re supposed to gently stroke from the jaw down toward the neck to help the fluid move, but half the time I felt like I was just poking a balloon. My routine was: wake up, drink a lukewarm tea that was supposed to reduce swelling, stare at the mirror, realize I still looked puffy, and then try to work from home while ignoring the tightness in my skin. It was annoying. It felt like I was constantly checking for results that weren’t appearing fast enough. There were days I genuinely regretted the decision because the inconvenience of the downtime was just so high compared to the immediate visibility of the change.
Lingering questions about the outcome
It has been a few months now, and while the double chin is definitely less noticeable than before, I’m still not entirely sure it was worth the mental energy. When I look at photos from last summer compared to now, yes, there is a difference. The jawline is sharper. But then I see someone else who just lost weight naturally, and I wonder if I was just impatient. Sometimes I think about those other options I didn’t choose—maybe I should have just stuck to diet and exercise longer. Even now, whenever I wake up with a bit of water retention in the morning, I find myself compulsively checking my jawline in the mirror again. I haven’t quite reached the stage where I’ve stopped thinking about it completely.
That compression garment sounds absolutely brutal. My aunt went through something similar after a facelift, and she described it as feeling like a medieval torture device.