✨ My Surgical Journey – The "How" ✨

In my last post, I shared the why behind my decision to have a tummy tuck and breast uplift.

This time, it's all about the how.

Finding the Right Surgeon

The first thing I had to do was research surgeons.

If you've ever looked into cosmetic surgery, you'll know it's a huge industry and, honestly, a bit of a minefield. There are endless options, all with glowing reviews, beautiful before-and-after photos, and promises of life-changing results.

I needed a way to narrow things down.

1. Location

I am incredibly squeamish.

The thought of being discharged shortly after surgery and sent home with a wound stretching from hip to hip, plus however many incisions would come with a breast uplift, absolutely terrified me.

During my research, I also discovered that because of my BMI, there was a reasonable chance I'd need surgical drains after the operation. That made one thing very clear:

I did not want to travel far.

Not just for the journey home, but for follow-up appointments, check-ups, or in the unlikely event something went wrong during recovery.

This immediately ruled out the increasingly popular option of going abroad for surgery. It also ruled out many London clinics. I won't drive in London, and the thought of navigating public transport after major surgery was a hard no.

Suddenly, my search became much more manageable.

2. Reputation

From the start, I knew I wanted the best surgeon I could find. Cost would be a consideration, of course, but it would never be the deciding factor.

This is my body and if I was going to do it, I wanted to do it properly.

The problem was that almost every surgeon I looked at had fantastic reviews and amazing results. It felt like trying to find a needle in a haystack.

I'd spoken to people who'd had cosmetic procedures themselves. Some experiences were brilliant, others not so much. But again, most recommendations took me outside the area I'd decided to stick to.

Then I had a lightbulb moment. 

My wonderful mother-in-law works at Nuffield Health in Guildford, which offers cosmetic surgery.

Knowing the hospital's excellent reputation, I asked her a simple question:

"Who is the best cosmetic surgeon there?"

She came back with a name and even better, because she's a member of staff, I could receive a small family discount. Result. 😂

I did my homework and liked everything I saw. I won't name him just yet as I haven't asked his permission, so for now we'll call him Mr T.

His portfolio was impressive, his credentials were excellent, and he clearly knew exactly what he was doing.

Taking the First Real Step

Up until this point, none of it had felt real.

I think part of me expected someone to tell me I wasn't eligible, so I'd deliberately avoided getting too invested.

Eventually, I emailed Mr T's PA outlining my intentions and all the relevant details that I felt could affect my eligibility:

• Arthritis
• Psoriasis - An annoying psoriasis patch beneath my stomach fold that won't heal because... well... the fold is still there
• Current medications
• My BMI

I also asked for indicative pricing because at that point, I genuinely had no idea what these procedures cost.

The only thing I did know was that breast uplifts are often more expensive than implants, which surprised me when I first learned it.

What I did know was this:

If surgery was possible, I was going to find a way to make it happen. Even if I had to remortgage the house.

(Only slightly joking.)

The Virtual Consultation

Before committing to a paid face-to-face consultation, I arranged a free virtual appointment.

I had to submit front and side profile photographs beforehand while wearing fitted clothing.

The consultation itself was more focused on the procedures than on me personally.

Mr T explained the surgical options:

• Have both procedures separately.
• Have them together during one operation.

The combined procedure was cheaper overall because it only required one anaesthetic, but theatre slots were harder to secure because it takes most of the day.

I liked him immediately. He was kind, informative, direct, and refreshingly honest.

No sales pitch, no fluff, just facts.

When I raised concerns about my BMI, he was completely unfazed. He explained that while BMI is a consideration, it wasn't something that concerned him significantly and that, realistically, my measurements would change substantially after surgery anyway.

I came away feeling reassured.

The Quote

Then the quote arrived. My jaw hit the floor.

The total cost for both procedures was just under £20,000.

I genuinely hadn't expected a figure anywhere near that.

I've debated whether to share the exact amount because talking openly about money feels very un-British. But I promised I'd be transparent throughout this journey and, let's be honest, it's one of the questions everyone wants answered.

Since then, I've obtained several other quotes and discovered that the figure was actually pretty competitive.

Still...

Twenty thousand pounds!!!

I briefly thought that was the end of the road as I simply didn't have that kind of money sitting around.

Thankfully, my husband was much more optimistic than I was. After some serious conversations and advice from the wisest woman I know (my mum), we explored finance options and eventually secured a loan.

Looking back, this was probably the hardest part of the entire process. Spending that amount of money on something that's solely for me felt selfish, indulgent, shallow even.

I still struggle with those feelings as I am writing this. I know how fortunate I am to even have this option. But eventually I realised something important:

Maybe it's okay to put myself first this one time.

The Face-to-Face Consultation

This was the appointment that made everything feel real and I was terrified.

Not of the examination itself, but of someone telling me I couldn't have the surgery after all.

I brought my husband along to help me absorb all the information. In hindsight that may have been a mistake...

The consultation began with an examination of my abdomen.

After changing into a glamorous ensemble of "removing my trousers and holding my top up while trying not to die of embarrassment," Mr T assessed my stomach and showed me exactly where the incisions would go.

Using a mirror, he pinched, pulled and moved skin around to demonstrate the likely outcome.

He explained that the surgery would not only remove excess skin and fat but would also repair my separated abdominal muscles.

Something else I hadn't considered was my posture.

Apparently, I have a pronounced arch in my lower back, which naturally pushes my abdomen forward. So if I want that truly flat-stomach look afterwards, I'll need to work on correcting that myself.

Who knew?

The Awkward Part 🙈

Next came the breast examination. This is where bringing my husband became questionable.

Picture the scene:

I'm standing topless in front of a mirror, Mr T is lifting and assessing my breasts, my husband is sitting silently in the corner of the room...

Nobody knows where to look, nobody knows what to say.

To this day, weeks later, we still haven't discussed it. I think we've mutually agreed to pretend it never happened.

The breast uplift itself sounds pretty dramatic.

There are a lot of incisions involved and, yes, your nipples get moved. I know. I nearly fainted too.

Thankfully, he was pleased with the quality of the skin around my chest, which should make the reconstruction more straightforward.

Small wins.

The Scary Conversation

Once the examination was complete, we moved onto risks and there are lots of them.

They have to discuss every possible complication, no matter how unlikely but by the end of that conversation I was mentally planning my own funeral.

The biggest thing under my control was smoking. Mr T was crystal clear:

No nicotine.

Not cigarettes.

Not vapes.

Not patches.

Nothing.

Nicotine significantly impairs healing and increases the risk of wound complications apparently and he needed me nicotine free for 3 weeks before and 3 weeks after surgery.

So I quit.

At the time of writing, it's been almost two months.

I've had the occasional lapse while having a drink, but I've remained nicotine-free within the required timeframe and honestly, I'm pretty proud of that.

One Final Hurdle

Just as I thought everything was settled, Mr T dropped one final bombshell.

He explained that although he was happy to proceed, the hospital still needed to approve me because of the increased risks associated with my BMI.

I was stunned.

Especially as I'd already paid £200 for the consultation. If they'd turned around and said no at that point, I'd have been furious. So began a very stressful wait.

Eventually—and only after I chased them—I received confirmation that I was approved and they had a surgery slot available.

4th July 2026.

I accepted immediately.

Getting Ready

Since then, things have moved quickly.

I've had:

✅ A full pre-operative assessment

✅ Blood tests

✅ ECG

✅ Swabs

✅ A million medical questions

Next week I'll meet with Mr T again to be measured for my compression garment and post-surgery bra.

Honestly, I never thought I'd be excited about being fitted for medical underwear, but here we are.

✨ Next Stop: Surgery Day

So that's the "how."

The researching, the worrying, the finances, the consultations, the awkward topless moments and the approval.

Now all that's left is the surgery itself. My next update will be the big one.

Wish me luck...

✨ My Surgery Journey Begins ✨

I am so excited to share that next month I will be having a tummy tuck and breast uplift.

I've decided to be completely open about the procedure because, let's be honest, the results will probably be quite visible! More importantly, I'd rather tell my story once than answer the same questions a hundred different times.

What has surprised me already is the number of people who have said things like:

💬 "Let me know how it goes."

💬 "I've been thinking about doing the same."

💬 "I'd love to hear about your experience."

So I've decided to share my journey from start to finish.

For years, whenever I researched these procedures, I searched for real-life experiences from real women. If my story helps even one person who's considering something similar, then sharing it will be worth it.

 

How We Got Here

My story starts almost 19 years ago when I was busy growing a human being inside my 5'2" frame.

My daughter was a BIG baby.

Pregnancy changed my body in ways I could never have imagined. Everything expanded—not just my tummy. My feet, ankles, thighs, upper arms, neck, and even my boobs all increased in size.

When she arrived, she left me with an umbilical hernia and severe abdominal muscle separation (diastasis recti), which created a strange dome shape down the centre of my stomach.

And from that moment on, my body was never quite the same.

Trying Everything

After giving birth, I gave myself grace.

I knew my body wouldn't simply bounce back overnight.

But after several months, I realised something wasn't right. Instead of getting smaller, I seemed to be getting bigger.

I joined boot camp three times a week, walked for miles pushing the pram, and focused on eating well. Despite all of that effort, nothing shifted.

At the same time, I noticed another change.

My breasts had lost their shape and fullness. They sat much lower than before and felt completely different.

(Think spaniel ears. If you know, you know. 😂)

Baby Number Two

A few years later, I fell pregnant with my son.

And somehow, he was even bigger than his sister.

The second pregnancy felt like the final nail in the coffin for the figure I once had.

Fourteen Years of Frustration

For the next 14 years, I tried everything.

Diets.

Exercise plans.

Lifestyle changes.

Medical investigations.

Blood tests.

Appointments.

Advice.

More advice.

I won't bore you with every detail because many of those attempts appear in previous posts, but after years of trying, every professional told me the same thing:

"There is nothing medically wrong with you."

Most recently, as a last resort, I tried Mounjaro.

Honestly, it felt like cheating, which is why I resisted it for so long.

Imagine my heartbreak when it did absolutely nothing.

I didn't lose a single pound.

Well... apart from the pounds disappearing from my bank account because that stuff is expensive! 😂

Throughout all those years, one thing never changed.

I always knew I wanted a breast uplift.

I told myself it would be my reward once I reached a certain weight goal.

The problem was that goal never seemed to come.

Learning to Love Myself ❤️

Eventually, I reached a point where I was simply tired of trying to become someone else.

Instead of endlessly chasing a different body, I decided I needed to learn how to love the one I have.

That sounds lovely in theory.

In reality, it's hard work.

It requires changing the way you see yourself and challenging everything you've been taught about beauty.

But there were two things I always struggled to accept:

🔹 My drooping breasts

🔹 My overhanging tummy

Those weren't just physical insecurities.

They affected how I dressed.

They affected what activities I felt comfortable doing.

They affected my confidence.

I love swimming, but I stopped going because I could never find a swimsuit that supported my chest like a bra while also making me feel comfortable around my stomach.

And over time, those feelings seeped into other areas of my life.

Including my relationship with my husband.

When you feel uncomfortable in your own skin, it follows you everywhere.

The Conversation That Changed Everything

Recently, I went away for a girls' weekend with some incredible women I've known since school.

We lost touch for years but reconnected a few years ago, and they've become my ride-or-die group.

During a conversation, one friend casually mentioned she'd had a breast uplift.

I was shocked.

I had absolutely no idea.

Then I realised that, in our group of six, three women had had some form of cosmetic procedure.

When I mentioned I'd always wanted a breast uplift, she simply asked:

"What's stopping you?"

And honestly?

I couldn't answer.

Was it money?

Fear of judgement?

Fear of the pain?

(I am ridiculously squeamish.)

Or was I afraid that surgery wouldn't magically make me love myself?

Whatever the reason, that question stayed with me.

Making the Decision

That weekend planted a seed.

When I got home, I started researching seriously.

I wasn't even sure I'd qualify because my BMI is higher than ideal.

But after consultations and assessments, I discovered that I do qualify.

And now...

I'm booked.

I'm ready.

And next month, this journey officially begins.

What's Next?

So that's the backstory.

That's the "why."

In my next post, I'll share the "how"—the consultations, decision-making process, surgeon selection, costs, fears, and everything else that led me here.

If you've ever considered cosmetic surgery, struggled with body confidence, or are simply curious about the process, feel free to follow along.

I'll be sharing the whole journey—the good, the bad, and the hopefully very uplifted. 😉💕

This isn't about becoming someone else. It's about feeling comfortable as me.

Do what makes you most happiest...

This is something I have long forgotten but something I am aiming to rectify.

I have been looking inwardly for a while now as I realised I have lost myself a bit. I have spent so long being mum, wife, councillor, chauffer, chef, cleaner, dog walker business owner etc etc etc (you get the idea) that I don't really know who I am anymore or what makes me tick. My son asked me last Mothers day what I would like to do as it was 'my day' - I honestly couldn't answer and my 11 year old boy just said "that's really sad". He was absolutely right, that is sad!

When did I just stop living my own life to serve everyone else?

I like to paint and have recently made time to complete a run of adult paint by numbers to decorate my living room with. I also started doing acrylic paintings and watching some Bob Ross for inspiration. This is a good start but I'm not passionate about it.

Today I remembered what I used to be passionate about and that was writing so I am back on my blog to find out if that passion is still there, deep down somewhere.

What I love about writing on here is that I always set out to write about a specific topic but my thoughts and feelings (and typing fingers I guess) take me somewhere else entirely. I wrote in a previous post about how this blog serves as a therapy for me. It's always been a good place to get my thoughts down and help understand them better. 
This topic is no different as I have just felt 'lost' for such a long time but even this one small post has lightened that feeling already... this is me and where I should be, writing for the world to see :) (well my handful of readers anyway).

How did I get here?

To answer that is difficult as it creeps up over time. With each new responsibility, burden, role etc a small part of me disappeared... very slowly at first and over a long period of time until there was not much left.

After having my second child is when it really started. Being mum to 2 children (3 if you count the husband 😉) is very time consuming. Over time I also got 2 dogs which take up lots of my time - but these are the healthy timewasters as they force me to go out for therapeutic walks even when my depression is heightened and I don't want to leave the house.

Both my children (now 11 and 16 years old) have an agent and are often going to casting calls etc. My daughter does so many clubs (dancing, singing and acting), has a part time job and tutors younger children in Math within their own homes and my son does golf lessons and requests countless trips to the skatepark to perfect the grazing of his arms and legs on his skateboard. All of this requires me to drive them, wait around and generally schedule my time, dinner and any of my own activities around them. Honestly my diary looks like a code breakers worst nightmare!

Oh I forgot to mention I also run a Financial Services company with my husband (Henden Financial). I look after the staff, HR, marketing, and oversee compliance and admin processes so you know, no biggy (exhausted sigh).

But the thing that really erased my real self was illnesses. Since turning 30 (some time ago now) I have been riddled with so many issues. Nothing life threatening or considerably life changing by the way so believe me I do count myself very fortunate still and won't ever think I have been dealt a rough hand as so many are in worse situations. These illnesses just taught me to make myself as invisible as possible.

I hate sympathy with a passion. As mentioned above, we are all going through something, so I don't like to accept sympathy as I never feel very deserving of it. So in an effort to avoid this and to not be a burden to anyone I started to be as unnoticed as possible. 

On a night out I used to be in considerable pain so just kinda took a seat and acted as if 'I don't really do dancing', that way people stop asking you to dance after a while, completely unaware that its not that you don't want to, its simply that you can't as your body won't allow it. The only problem with this particular trick is that now the pain is sorted I don't know how to get back out of that seat and find the confidence I used to have to dance. 

I have a million other little tricks I have used to be 'seen but not heard' but the most effective I found was to simply not leave my house. Come up with excuses to not go to events or meet friends for coffee etc. A very effective way to not be a burden but sadly a vey good way to drift away from people and stop getting invites at all... in essence losing the biggest part of myself.

However, never one to dwell on past mistakes I am rectifying and making amends. The people currently around me know my struggles (to a degree) and tolerate my lack of confidence while trying to build me up so with that in mind I am going to write more, make time for myself and generally say 'yes' more!

DO WHAT MAKES YOU HAPPY 🌈

This pic is because Chris Hemsworth makes me happy so this was a good day 😄

Light therapy - The results

I have been very bad at keeping a written update on my light therapy so now that I have had the last session I thought I would share the results.

Before I go into that I will give you some pros and cons of the light therapy from my perspective (everyone reacts differently).

Cons

• Gives you a constant tan - May not sound like a con but I have become paranoid that people think I am using sun beds... I point out constantly that its medical.

• Redness on days of treatment - Immediately after treatment I am fine but throughout the day you get redder and redder until you become a human glowstick. It doesn't hurt but does make you very hot.

• Goggle marks - to begin with I had to wear these little goggles which left my burning red face with ridiculous white goggle marks. It was getting ridiculous so as I don't really have Psoriasis on my face I opted to use sun block on my face for the last 10 sessions which helped alot

• Burnt nipples - true thing! how often do your nipples see the sun? so when they were exposed to this UV ray i did actually burn them so again I opted for sun cream on my face and nipples.

• Time - I have felt like the hospital is my second home. I have perfected the f*ck off look to the charity guy who sits in the foyer. There is only so many times they can approach you before you start thinking "seriously you still don't recognise me as you have harassed me twice a week for the last 4 months!

• Itching - Anyone who has psoriasis knows the phrase "it has to get worse to get better". There is a moment with all the psoriasis treatments where it starts to work a bit but when your skin starts to repair it can be the most incredible itchy sensation. Yes, it is short lived (sometimes a few days) but its hard to do normal things while you just want to cry and scratch off your skin.

Pro's

There is only one. See pictures below of my arm:

I think this picture says it all!

However, although my arms are better my torso is not quite clear.

Because of this they are moving me to 10 sessions on a different machine. It is PUVA treatment. Same kind of thing but I have to take a tablet 2 hours before treatment to make my skin more sensitive.
Biggest downside to this one is that on days I have treatment I must wear sunglasses all day and cover up any skin all day so if you see me indoors wearing sunglasses I am not hungover, it is medical lol!!!

For anyone suffering please please please give the light therapy a go. As you can see it is so worth it!

Light therapy update

Now that I have been having light treatment for a few weeks I thought I would give you guys a short update.

It has been an odd experience really. After the first couple of times I noticed that my face was becoming irritated and blotchy which is completely out of the ordinary as I don't suffer from psoriasis on my face.
I raised this with the nurse at my next appointment. She looked me over, looked a bit puzzled and then took a sharp intake of breath as she realised what was happening (I expected a little light bulb to appear above her head). "You're wearing make-up!" she said as if this was meant to mean something to me. Well it turns out that she had neglected to tell me I am not to wear any make-up, perfume or deodorant and also that I am not to wash my hair or body the day of my treatment due to the perfumes in the product and how it reacts in the machine. I'll be honest I didn't really ask why.

So from that session onward I now shower the night before and have to go to the hospital bare faced with no deodorant on... FYI if you ever see me at the hospital when I am in this state please don't try to talk to me, the pure humiliation of not wearing make-up renders me blind to other people... well except the man who was screaming at me this morning because I would not let him jump the car park queue (a story for another time).

Oh that reminds me I realised that my early morning appointments mean I miss the horrendous parking queues so yay I always get a space straight away.

So the treatment is going ok. I am about 6 sessions in (I have already lost count) and am starting to see some improvement already. This has amazed me considering my sessions started with 36 seconds in the machine and each time it goes up 20%. Today I was in there for 1 min 27 sec and this evening I actually do look sunburned.

The real downside is the itchiness. The nurse had warned me that it would get worse before it got better and she wasn't wrong. Even as I type this I want to just rip my own skin off but I will perservere as it will be worth it.

***Don't scroll down any further if you don't like seeing gross stuff.***
The pictures below are from session 1 to session 6. The change is subtle but trust me it is so much better already


Session 1

 Session 6

Accidental hobby

I have inadvertently taken up oil painting.
Yep, that is right, due to a slight misunderstanding at Christmas I acquired all the gear so I thought "why not"

A friend of mine moved into her new flat last year and showed me the most beautiful canvas paint by numbers that she was doing. I loved the idea of having art on the wall that you had done yourself.

So after a huge house renovation/ extension I have a lovely room that is crying out for some art of just this type. So for Christmas I asked my brother for my own paint by number canvas.

It is still unfinished but this is what I have done so far

On Christmas morning I was presented with an oil painting kit from my husband which confused the hell out of me. To which he replied that my brother had told him about the painting I had asked for and he completely got the wrong end of the paint brush and thought I had wanted to take up oil painting.

Having almost completed my stag picture I decided to give it a good go. Best case I discover a new talent or at least a hobby I enjoy and worst case I have just wasted a bit of paint.

I found an old easel laying around (seriously did) and even found a small canvass unused (why do I have this stuff laying around in my house?). I then found a picture online that I thought looked simple and loved the colours so went about painting.

The first thing I did was to paint the background however I did not know what I was doing so did not use any thinners and just piled the oil directly and thickly to the canvas. I had no idea this would take days to dry...

I then went about completing the tree. It is far from perfect and looks ok if you stand a distance away but I am really pleased with my first attempt

I have since been reading up and even got a book on oils, which is one of the more difficult paints to master apparently (typical to start at the highest level). I know all the things I did wrong and have a couple more pictures and techniques I want to try so watch this space.
The biggest problem is now finding time to do it

Photo therapy during austerity

If you read my last post you may well be wondering what on earth photo therapy (light treatment) is. Well let me explain.

Light therapy, also known as photo therapy, is the use of ultraviolet (UV) light for its healing effects. Photo therapy has been used worldwide for nearly a century to treat chronic skin conditions such as psoriasis, vitiligo and severe eczema.
While many treatments decrease the overall immune system, UV light can be used to decrease the local immune system in the skin. In conditions such as psoriasis, light therapy can also slow down the development of thick, scaly skin.

Yesterday I had my induction with the team at Frimley park hospital. After an HOUR trying to park I arrived slightly late for my appointment but was greeted by a lovely nurse who said not to worry.

This nurse then spent the next 45 minutes going through all the information about the therapy, what to expect, do's and don't's etc

There was a lot of information but my biggest take away was that one of the side affects is that there will be an alternation in the skin pigments... in simplified English I will get a tan!!! awesome :)

The light used is similar to those in sunbeds however the amount of UV you get from them is around 20% and in these sessions I will get closer to 80%. I was told I would be having 30 treatments and that most people see significant changes by session 15.
90% of patients respond really well to the treatment and are cured with only a small number returning at a later date.

The nurse then did a patch test where she put this wand of light on my back (a clear bit of skin) and left what I can only explain as a number of mini crop circles of varying redness. Apparently this shows them what level of power my skin will be able to take.

The treatment

Today I went back for my first treatment. I couldn't sleep last night, I was just so excited. This is something I have dreamt about and fought for over the last 6 years so it was a bit like Christmas day.

It only took 40 minutes to park this morning which is so frustrating when I am only going to be in treatment for a few minutes.

I went in and saw the lovely nurse again. She checked the patch test and seemed happy with the result. We discussed the various patches around my body and what standing position I should take in order to reach the most patches of psoriasis. We settles on a weird, legs apart and hold boobs up (I have a patch under my boob). I looked ridiculous.

I was then sent behind a curtain to undress - completely. I adorned my amazing mini goggles and climbed into the machine. The machine, by the way, looks just like an upright sunbed but there is a little window at head height (for the nurses to check on you), also the lights seemed red but this could be the colour tinting from my goggles.

I took my weirdly pre-agreed stance and shouted to the nurse that I was ready. The nurse came in and turned on the machine which got warm very quickly. I just kept thinking of all the other psoriasis riddled people who had stood here before me and shuddered at the thought (not to self, take sanitiser next time).

No sooner had it started than it stopped. 34 seconds!!! 34 bloody seconds, almost doesn't seem worth undressing for. I have been told the time will increase with each visit so probably another week and a half before I make it to 1 minute Lol!

I was then told to dress, sign the form and leave. I walked out of the room a bit rosey cheeked and dishevelled and wondered what the other people in the waiting room thought had just gone on... I always try to guess why people are there when in a medical waiting room, It is a rather morbid guessing game but it keeps me entertained.

My next session is on Monday and then again on Thursday for another 29 sessions. All I can think about though is how to avoid the traffic and parking misery for the next 15 weeks. May need to park miles away and walk in.

This is my arm after 1 session, I will keep a record of the changes over time.