
Credit: Slingo UK Official
There is something almost disarming about the way Yazmin Oukhellou posted that photo. Black eyes, bandages wrapped tight around her jaw, a compression vest squeezing her torso — three days out of surgery, standing in front of a mirror in what looked like a dimly lit hotel room, snapping a selfie for her Instagram followers. No filter. No flattering angle. Just the raw, uncomfortable reality of what cosmetic surgery actually looks like before the results arrive. It takes a particular kind of confidence — or perhaps a particular kind of defiance — to share that.
Oukhellou, who first appeared on The Only Way Is Essex back in 2017, is 31 years old and has now undergone nine separate cosmetic procedures, spending somewhere in the region of £65,000 over the course of eight years. Her latest trip to Istanbul saw her go through a temporal lift, a neck and jaw lift, and 360-degree liposuction — a combination that her surgeon reportedly took between two and five hours to complete. She started this journey at 23 with a breast augmentation, and it’s possible she had no idea then just how long that road would turn out to be.
| Category | Details |
|---|---|
| Full Name | Yazmin Oukhellou |
| Date of Birth | 1994 (Age: 31) |
| Nationality | British |
| Profession | Reality TV Personality, Influencer |
| Known For | The Only Way Is Essex (TOWIE), joined in 2017 |
| Total Surgeries | 9 (as of April 2026) |
| Estimated Spend | £65,000 |
| Surgery Clinic | Serene Cosmetic, Istanbul, Turkey |
| Social Media | Instagram: @yazminoukhellou |
| Reference | The Sun |
The Yazmin Oukhellou plastic surgery conversation feels different from the usual celebrity tabloid churn, though it’s hard to say exactly why at first. Maybe it’s her age. There’s something that stops you when you remember she hasn’t yet turned 32 — and has already had two nose jobs, two breast augmentations, a Brazilian butt lift, and now a full facial lift. A lot of people in their thirties are still figuring out skincare routines.
The clinic she uses — Serene Cosmetic in Istanbul — has become something of a personal institution for her. “The only place I trust with my surgeries,” she wrote in her caption, mentioning that her surgeon checks in with her daily during recovery. There’s a sense, reading between the lines of her posts, that the relationship she has with that clinic is as much about psychological comfort as it is about surgical outcomes. She isn’t flying to Turkey because it’s cheap. She’s flying there because, as she put it simply, she trusts the people there. Whether that trust is entirely well-placed is a question worth sitting with, even if she seems certain of the answer.
Critics online were quick to make comparisons to Katie Price — another British celebrity whose relationship with cosmetic surgery has been extensively documented, debated, and occasionally weaponised against her in the press. Oukhellou has heard the comparisons and doesn’t appear particularly wounded by them. “I don’t care what anyone thinks or says. I just do it,” she told The Sun while recovering. That’s either admirable self-possession or a concerning absence of external reflection, depending on where you stand. Probably both, if you’re being honest.
What’s genuinely interesting about the Yazmin Oukhellou plastic surgery story isn’t the procedures themselves — it’s the ecosystem around them. She documented the morning before her surgery at the hotel, got marked up in the preparation ward, and then shared her recovery in real time. This kind of radical transparency is relatively new, and it sits awkwardly alongside the traditional narrative that celebrities are supposed to maintain. You weren’t meant to see the bandages. The before-and-after was supposed to be separated by a veil of plausible deniability and strategically timed Instagram hiatuses. Oukhellou has torn that veil down entirely, and the audience doesn’t quite know how to react.
Some fans left comments calling her beautiful even mid-recovery, telling her she was “still fire.” Others expressed something closer to grief — one commenter wrote that she’d always thought Yazmin was “the most beautiful one” on TOWIE and found the whole thing sad. Neither reaction is entirely negative, and neither is entirely right. It’s still unclear whether this kind of openness normalises cosmetic surgery healthily, encourages more transparent conversation, or simply amplifies pressure on younger women watching. Possibly all three at once.
Oukhellou herself seems aware of the responsibility, at least in theory. She made a point of saying she’d thought about this procedure for six months before proceeding, tried every non-surgical option first, and was sharing her experience not to promote surgery but to be honest. “I’d rather be honest than pretend I just woke up like this,” she wrote — a line that is quietly devastating in the context of an industry built almost entirely on exactly that pretence.
It’s hard not to notice that the women who are most honest about cosmetic surgery tend to attract the most criticism, while those who say nothing face significantly less scrutiny. There’s an irony there that the conversation around Yazmin Oukhellou’s plastic surgery rarely touches. She’s getting trolled precisely because she showed you the bruises — not because she had the surgery in the first place.
Where does it go from here? She’s been clear that this ninth procedure won’t be her last. She talked about the natural progression of ageing skin, the limits of fillers and Botox, and the moment when lifting becomes the only option she sees. Watching this unfold, you get the impression that Yazmin Oukhellou has made a kind of private peace with the trajectory she’s on — and that peace isn’t contingent on anyone else’s approval. Whether the internet can say the same is another matter entirely.

