Last month, Susan Dell, wife of billionaire Dell Technologies founder Michael Dell, appeared alongside Trump at the White House to discuss the couple’s $6.25 billion donation towards investment accounts for 25 million children, which they had originally announced last year. That’s $250 for each of those children, a head start on their future. You’d think people would be happy about this. Applaud it, even. Put aside any issues you may have with living in a world where it’s possible for one man to have made so much money in the first place, or with the political views of the man standing next to her: a philanthropic endeavour of this magnitude is surely worthy of high praise.

Apparently that doesn’t even protect a woman from having her appearance pulled apart. Particularly a woman who fails to fit the perceived ideal of beauty standards around ageing, whatever they may be.

As footage circulated, the internet blew up, not about Susan’s speech but about her 62-year-old face: her wide-eyed expression, her facial movements and even her posture were all subjected to wild scrutiny, including some bizarre comparisons to robots and aliens. At the heart of it all was speculation about what cosmetic surgery she may or may not have had done.

Sadly, this whole farrago was not wholly surprising to me. As a former magazine editor who has had a front-row seat to the misogyny and ageism directed at women for the past 30 years, I’ve seen the impossible expectations put on us as we age grow steadily worse.

Advancements in cosmetic procedures have allowed us more choices about how we look as we get older, meaning that some of us can, indeed, be free of wrinkles and droopy eyelids should we choose. But alongside those choices has come a whole new sport: analysing, judging and guessing what tweakments and surgery women may have had done, and then criticising those who choose not to partake. And the industry sells most of it on a single promise: nobody will ever know. I’ve come to think that promise is part of the problem.

What Susan has or hasn’t had done is, quite frankly, none of our business, and it’s also irrelevant. It had no bearing on the donation she was there to discuss. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. And she’s not alone. Women across the globe are both slammed for filler and faulted for sagging jawlines. Our faces are subject to debate whatever our choices, and we are judged more for our appearance than for our actions and achievements. Look, for example, at Madonna, Courteney Cox and Kylie Minogue, all lambasted for being “unrecognisable”. Meanwhile, Hillary Clinton and Sarah Jessica Parker have both been criticised for their grey hair and wrinkles.

And women outside the public eye face the same double judgement trap in every aspect of our lives: we’re criticised for being overweight while also being judged for being too skinny. We’re too loud or we’re too quiet. Too fat but also too thin. Bad mothers for working too hard, but then judged as unambitious when we decide to focus on being full-time mums. Will there ever be a day when women are allowed to just be, without the full weight of other people’s opinions and judgements?

Like many women, I’ve personally been on the receiving end of it all, and certainly when it comes to my appearance, it’s led me to care much less about what anyone thinks. There’s nothing like seeing the comments underneath an article I’ve written for a national newspaper to know that the nasty, toxic world of judgement is alive and kicking. My view? Unless someone is paying my mortgage, they don’t have a right to comment on my life choices.

At 52 years old, I’m unapologetic about the tweakments I’ve had over the years. Regular Botox, for me, is a form of self-care. It makes me look fresher-faced and less tired and, yes, that makes me feel good. I’ve tried under-eye filler (not for me: I spent the next 12 months getting it removed), salmon sperm facials (overrated) and Profhilo (it gave me a round face). Other people may have completely different views and experiences.

And I’ll talk to anyone about it. Hell, I’ve even spoken on Instagram about having Botox in my neck, because I like the way it makes my jawline look. I’m intentionally open about it for a good reason: I hate the idea that someone else is looking at my largely wrinkle-free face and wondering why they have wrinkles when we’re the same age, or thinking it’s just down to good genes or an expensive moisturiser. As a result, I’m the friend, and the stranger, people come to with questions about reputable doctors, for honest feedback, and to ask what’s worth spending money on and what isn’t. But I know many friends don’t feel comfortable being open.

That’s down to external shaming, yes, but also to the industry’s promise of “undetectable” work. If the only safe move is to have it and not admit to it, then secrecy becomes part of the product, and believe me, that does not benefit women. It only benefits a largely unregulated industry that allows cowboy aestheticians to repeatedly make a mess of our faces, with no one willing to call it out. Because how can you call out bad work if you’re apparently not having it, even if your face tells a different story?

That doesn’t mean that Susan or any other woman owes us an explanation or a list of procedures. My decision to talk about mine is exactly that: my decision. Openness should be a choice, not a decision made out of fear of other people’s speculation and shaming.

So yes, let’s analyse the Dells’ donation and where and how it’s really going to have an impact. Yes, let’s discuss the politics and systems that allow one man to make billions when millions struggle even to feed their families. None of this excuses an analysis of Susan’s face, or of any woman’s face or life choices.

I’m happy to talk about the work I’ve had done. But I’ll be much happier living in a world where women can stand up and be judged solely on our work, rather than on what bloody tweakments we may or may not have had done. Why the hell does anyone care?