The Cutting knife – My Journey with Plastic Surgery

Plastic surgery, still to this day and age holds so much stigma and judgement.

I’m not entirely sure why this is, or why people think how someone chooses to change their body is any of their business. But they do.

It’s no secret that almost nine years ago I had plastic surgery, you’d almost forget after this long.

The reality is, at 23. I probably shouldn’t have had that type of surgery. I needed to have it, but I wasn’t educated, or prepared for the changes to my body. That’s not to say that I wasn’t piled with info, but there really should be a buddy system for that shit – because fuck me its overwhelming.

I’d always been part of the “big tittie committee” and to look at me now, you’d think I actually didn’t have the surgery. However I went from a size 16G to H, to a 16D – that’s a fair few sizes down mate!

I had what’s referred to as the anchor surgery, where you are cut in the shape of an anchor and have the tissue removed.

Prior to having the surgery though I needed to have lost a minimum of 10 kilos without a cup size change for it to go ahead. I’d never dieted like that before. But I know now that it did nothing good for my body image.

So I lost it. I lost the weight, but I didn’t do it a healthy way, I really didn’t have a good support system, and the gym wasn’t like I know it to be now.
There were so many things no one told me I’d not be able to do or use. Like my top half of my body to pull myself up post op, so I’d need core strength, or that I’d need to make sure I had good upper body strength as I’d need it for balance.

It was purely a numbers game. Get the 10 kgs off and you can have the surgery.

There was no food education with my weight loss, there were no guides to follow, no system to work through

Looking back, and looking at the photos below. I wasn’t big to start with! I was in the 60’s range and apart from my boobs, everything was fairly proportionate.

Like I mentioned earlier, I was piled high with pamphlets, but a lot I didn’t understand. Like this little pamphlet on mental illness, as many people suffer from depression and/or body dismorphia after plastic surgery – I 100% thought this was a bat shit crazy statement. How could you be depressed after wanting to change so much?!

Truth was, I did. Because I no longer recognised my body, it was no longer secure. I was no longer what defined me.

Plastic surgery in any form, is a huge emotional and physical thing to go through. It’s never the easy way out. Most, if not all are major surgeries. They all come with risks. They all come with complications. Mine did.

Being Maori meant I was prone to keloid scarring, I also took longer to heal, because I had mine done in the middle of summer (note to self should have done it in the winter time!)

Then there’s the after, there’s the what do now? I’d always been known for my chest. Now people were looking at me for me. (In my head anyway)

My body shape was changing, my tiny waist didn’t seem so tiny, my arms – although they could rest down my side, felt huge. And the novelty of being able to see my tummy and my toes, well that wore off pretty friggin quickly. I really was at a loss, I’d changed my body in this massive way removing and re shaping, something that honestly defines us as woman, and I didn’t know how to deal.

It’s taken me a long time to love my body. My plastic surgery has never been a secret.

But I guess – it’s the not all roses part that had been. I, in reality got pretty lucky in the end – I barley have any scaring that’s visible now, I do have altered sensation, and I may or may not be able to breast feed if I choose to have children, but none of what I’ve gone through makes me regret my surgery in anyway. I would go back and do it again in a heartbeat – albeit in the winter time! And I would never say never to more plastic surgery if I felt I wanted it or needed it.

But I know and understand more about myself.

I know I am more than my surgery.

I am more than my weight loss.

I’m someone who dished her body a whole heap of shit. Then has had to work like fuck to get it to a place of contentment. I still work at my body. EVERY.SINGLE.DAY. in some way shape or form.

I’m someone who now knows her worth.

I’m someone who is proud of all of my scars.

Plastic surgery is a VERY personal choice and isn’t for everyone.

When someone talks to you about changing their body. Listen, listen to them and I mean really listen.Because openly telling someone your changing your body makes you feel incredibly vulnerable. You can’t go back the same way. The knife that cuts you, cuts more than just skin and muscle.

In a world of opinions towards body image. Just be kind. You don’t have to agree with someone – but their body, their choice.

I guarantee you the person you have an opinion on or you may even be judging. Has already done that to themselves and they’ll be a fuck tonne harsher that you are.

Everyone has the right to do their own version of what the feel is perfect for them.

Just remember “it’s OK to perfectly imperfect”