I’ve been known as fats and ugly however when a stranger made a spiteful remark about my face, I went right into a devastating disgrace spiral. This is what I did to get revenge: SARA DAMERGI

Like most TV presenters, Sara Damergi has developed a steely armour in response to social media criticism of her appearance.

Her weight, of course, has been ­targeted (being a size 12 was deemed too big for TV) as has her hairstyle (too messy, apparently). Even the mole on her face has been fair game for trolls.

Indeed, the barrage of abuse was so unrelenting that Sara felt sure she had become inured to the bitter sting of disparaging comments.

But sadly, as she reveals in a searingly honest interview that will chime with so many midlife women, her seemingly unshakeable confidence was recently shattered after just one chance remark.

Today, she is so doubtful about her looks that she is almost certain she will one day embark on thousands of pounds worth of dramatic cosmetic surgery.

Shockingly, the interaction that led to this spiral wasn’t online – but in real life.

It was a woman in her yoga class – who said she was a fan of Sara’s daytime TV shows, which include A Place In The Sun and Coast vs Country – who caused her such hurt.

‘Leaning in to study my face, she said: “It’s funny really. I still think of you as young, but now I see you up close, I can really see the changes in your face,”’ recalls Sara, 47.

‘Some of the horror I felt must have registered on my face because she quickly added: “Oh sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” I tried to laugh it off, but there really is no other way than hurtful that such a comment can be meant, or taken.

‘I didn’t hear a word she said after that, distracted by all the thoughts she’d triggered: “Oh my God. I look old. I look awful. I look ugly.” I then spent the entire class stealing glances at my reflection in the mirror, seeing nothing but wrinkles and saggy jowls.’

In the flesh, Sara is an enviably attractive woman – big brown eyes, olive complexion, and a ­perfect smile. If she told you she was younger than her age, you would believe her.

So it’s sad to learn that when she walked through the door of the west London home she shares with her husband and two young sons after that class, Sara immediately did something she had never been driven to do by any barb on social media: she Googled face and neck lifts.

Today, the dust has settled and, while she admits she’s been left ‘hugely insecure’ by her real-life troll, she also admits she’s ashamed of her reaction.

Why, she wonders, did one woman bother her so much? Wasn’t she stronger than this? And, despite always saying it was a woman’s mind that was most important, did this reveal she did define herself by her appearance?

‘I don’t want to be someone who values herself based on how she looks. Nor do I want to believe that ageing makes women less valuable.

‘But all it took was a remark from a stranger, and that’s exactly what happened.

‘I should have been able to shrug it off and tell her: “Of course I’m ageing – I’m 47. We all age.” But instead her comments sent me into a shame spiral. And all because I’m not as young as I once was.’

It is, she recognises, an especially thorny issue for a woman like her, working in TV, where male presenters are allowed to develop into distinguished silver foxes while all too many female stars say they are considered over the hill when they hit middle age.

‘When people watch a show a lot, as this woman did, they think when they meet you, you’ll somehow be perfectly preserved, like some sort of Egyptian mummy.

‘But some episodes of Coast Vs Country were filmed ten years ago, when I was in my 30s,’ says Sara. ‘Viewers get older but must imagine people on the telly have superhuman anti-ageing powers.’

And even if you do survive as a woman on TV into your middle age, there is pressure to gild the lily. Indeed, Sara admits she is no stranger to Botox or Sculptra, an injectable containing poly-L-­lactic acid, an alternative to filler, that restores collagen.

‘Since I turned 40, I’m happy giving myself an occasional little refresh. But until this conversation, I’d never considered going as far as having a facelift,’ she says. ‘Afterwards I saw myself through completely fresh eyes: old and saggy.

‘Back home, I sat in front of my dressing table mirror, pulling back the flesh on my face and neck to see how I might look if it was tightened.

‘I asked my husband: “What do you think of me like this?”

‘Thankfully he insisted I didn’t need a facelift and asked: “Why would you even consider it, just because of some random ­comment from a woman you don’t know?” ’

But Sara couldn’t get her out of her head – something she puts down to the pressure most women feel to look good and the sadness they ­experience when they see their youthful beauty slipping away. Indeed, latest statistics show a 5 per cent rise, to 27,462, in the number of cosmetic procedures performed in the UK in 2024, compared with the previous year. And 90 per cent of these were performed on women.

The rise was largely driven by increases in facial rejuvenation surgery – including blepharoplasty (eyelid surgery), face and neck lifts. Despite her husband’s reassurance, Sara booked an online appointment for a consultation with a Harley Street surgeon.

She was told she could ‘get away with’ a deep plane neck lift – a surgical procedure that ­repositions underlying muscles and tissues beneath the platysma (superficial) muscle, creating a more defined look. The price? More than £17,000. And if she decided to have a neck and face lift, the cost would rise to £35,000.

‘It’s a lot but I gave it some ­serious consideration, before deciding that I’ll wait until I’m through the menopause. That way everything will settle and I’ll see how hangdog I look then.

‘As much as I’d like to think I’m above such vanity, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up having both procedures – I can’t help wanting to look as good as I can.’

It takes real courage for a woman of a certain age with a public profile to share an experience like hers, knowing it will lead to even greater scrutiny of her appearance.

And while not wanting to risk another soul-destroying conversation with her, Sara wanted her detractor to know just what an impact her words had had.

‘Before the next yoga class I made my point, playground-style, by giving her the side-eye and dramatically dragging my mat as far from hers as possible, which wasn’t very Zen of me,’ she says. ‘But what she said stung. Partly because I expected more from another woman – especially one like her, who I guess was in her late 50s, so well aware of the physical and emotional challenges women experience at this stage of life.

‘I’d even felt empathy towards her before we spoke because I’d caught her self-consciously tucking her tummy paunch into her Sweaty Betty leggings – a move I was familiar with after two kids. But all that evaporated after our chat.’

She’s since changed her yoga class. ‘I never imagined I’d have to steer clear of people in my own neighbourhood for fear of hearing hurtful things,’ she says. ‘That’s a whole new level of trolling that even I’m struggling to navigate.’