I thought the recovery would be the easiest part of the process

Deciding to finally fix the drooping eyelids

I spent years staring at my reflection in the elevator mirror, pulling at my skin with my fingertips and wondering if anyone would actually notice if I just changed this one small thing. It wasn’t even a big change, just something to make me look less tired, or maybe just less like I had given up on mornings entirely. I ended up visiting a clinic in Gangnam, mostly because a friend said the surgeon there had ‘a very light touch.’ I didn’t do much research beyond that, which feels a bit reckless now that I look back at it. The total cost ended up being around 2.5 million won, which was more than I had mentally budgeted, but I figured if I was going to do it, I shouldn’t go for the cheapest option just to save a few hundred thousand.

The reality of those first few days

I really thought I would be back to my normal routine within a week. I had these grand plans of catching up on books and finally cleaning out my closet while I was stuck at home. The reality was much messier. I spent the first three days sitting upright with ice packs wrapped in thin towels, trying to minimize the swelling that felt like it was pulsating behind my eyes. My eyes felt like they were glued shut in the mornings, and the vision was just blurry enough to be annoying. I found myself obsessing over every little bit of bruising, checking the mirror every twenty minutes even though the doctor specifically told me it would take time for the swelling to go down. I kept thinking, ‘Is this normal? Is this side more swollen than the other?’ It felt like I was living in a constant state of mild, low-grade anxiety.

The inconvenient trip to the convenience store

Around the fourth day, I ran out of eye drops and simple snacks. I had to walk to the local CU, and I felt like everyone on the street was staring at my sunglasses and the slight, awkward puffiness around my eyes. It was ridiculous, really—no one was actually looking at me, but I felt like I had a giant neon sign pointing at my face. I bought a pack of water and some crackers, and the cashier didn’t even look up from his phone. That brief moment of social interaction made me realize that I was the only person who cared about how I looked at that exact moment. It didn’t make me feel better, necessarily, but it made me feel a bit less dramatic about the whole thing.

The lingering question of results

It’s been a few weeks now, and the stitches are long gone, but the uncertainty remains. I catch myself wondering if I should have waited a bit longer or if the slight asymmetry I see is just in my head. Everyone says it takes months for things to ‘settle,’ which is a very vague way to tell someone to stop worrying. I look at photos of people online who seem to have these perfect transformations, and I feel a bit like I’m still waiting for my ‘after’ photo to actually happen. Maybe it’s just the nature of these things that you never really get that clean, satisfying feeling of ‘done.’

Things I still find annoying

My eyes feel drier than they used to, especially when I’m staring at a monitor for more than an hour. I keep a bottle of artificial tears on my desk now, just like those forum posts suggested, but they are a constant reminder that I did something to my body that hasn’t fully integrated yet. I find myself comparing my recovery to others, even though I know it’s useless because everyone’s skin and healing process is totally different. Some days I’m fine with it, and other days I wonder if I just should have left it alone and invested that money in a trip somewhere instead. The feeling isn’t regret, exactly, but it isn’t complete satisfaction either. It’s just this strange, middle-ground state that I didn’t really anticipate when I signed the consent forms.