She continues: “I decided to do this facelift because I want to be the best version of myself, and that makes me happy.”

“Just because you get older, it doesn’t mean you should give up on yourself. If you feel comfortable in your skin and you want to age gracefully – meaning you don’t want to do anything – then don’t do anything. But for me, this is ageing gracefully. It’s my version.”

STEFANO RELLANDINI/Getty Images

Here, Kris uses the age-old – no pun intended, etc – disclaimer of personal choice to evade social criticism of her decision-making. It goes like this: if you, a woman, choose to do something, that decision is inherently ~empowering~ because you’ve exercised your own free will in a world where women’s agency is scant. This logic works well for say, ordering Chinese food at 10am or free-bleeding on day four of your period, but it starts to fall apart when your decision-making, at the very least, adheres to a beauty standard that is crushing women and girls.

Here, I should add my own disclaimer: I’m not, necessarily, the heinous bitch my resting face would have you believe. I understand why Kris Jenner wants to look 22, and I’m certainly not immune to the pressures that dictate how we, as women, show up in the world. I’ll let you in on a little secret: I gain and lose half a stone every year. I don’t do it on purpose; I just get through a lot of potatoes during winter. During the time when I am missing those seven pounds, I feel sexier; I feel more empowered. But the fact that I am smaller – and therefore a smidge closer to the societally-accepted beauty standard – is not actually all that empowering. If anything, it’s depressing as fuck. And I wish we could talk about that, away from the theatrics of faux-empowerment that prop up the same systems that feed on our insecurities.

Forget the courage to be disliked, I want to see more celebrities like Kris Jenner embracing the courage to be old; to be wrinkly; to be unabashedly human and proud of it. I want Judi Dench shouting “YOU’RE NOT YOUNG!” at Cate Blanchett in Notes On A Scandal to be lovingly etched into our brains in case we ever need a reminder. I want us to remember that Death Becomes Her was a warning, not an instruction manual.

When I, God willing, reach the age of 69, I want the people around me to know that I’ve always been fun at parties; that I scowl when I’m concentrating; that I laugh loudly when I’m drunk and that the various struggles and joys of my life have demanded some pretty outlandish facial expressions over the years. I don’t want to look like some fresh-faced 22-year-old with it all ahead of her. I’m 69, baby. I’ve earned my laughter lines.

For more from Glamour UK’s Lucy Morgan, follow her on Instagram @lucyalexxandra.