✨ 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.

More than just skin deep

I have been MIA from the blogging scene for a while now. This is mainly due to health reasons that have consumed my life lately.
For the first time in about two years I feel like I am winning my personal battle and wanted to start sharing again, so here goes.

The main thing I want to focus on today is my Psoriasis. For those not "in the know" this is a horrible skin condition that causes red, itchy and scaly skin (it is as disgusting as it sounds). Psoriasis affects around 2% of people in the UK. It can start at any age but most often develops in adults under 35 years old, and affects men and women equally. The severity of psoriasis varies greatly from person to person. For some it's just a minor irritation but, for others, it can majorly affect their quality of life. Unfortunately mine is the latter. I am now covered from my head to my toes in these awful looking patches of flakey, red soreness. 

How it began:
It all began in my scalp about 7 or 8 years ago and to be honest, at the time, I just put it down to a reaction to a specific shampoo. When, after changing shampoo, it continues to get worse I knew there was more to it. It looked like dandruff and I would have to avoid wearing black as white skin would drop to my shoulders and cause me embarrassment (still does now).

It stayed just in my scalp for a couple of years until one day (a month after having a giant back tattoo) a patch appeared on the bottom of my back. This very quickly got bigger in size almost overnight and ruined my brand new tattoo that is still not complete yet. From here it spread over my entire body within a few short months. 

How does it feel:
Itchy - 
For the most part I am itchy ALL THE TIME which puts me on edge a lot. I find myself loosing my temper so much quicker that before as I have no tolerance. The evenings are by far the worst as it reaches the kind of itchiness that simply becomes more itchy the more you scratch. I have spent many an evening crying in the bath and eventually going to bed early just so that sleep will put me out of my misery. 
Some of my patches are in places that you cannot be seen to be scratching in public (if you know what I mean) so can be very awkward.

Soreness - 
With the itching comes the soreness and bleeding. To scratch to the point you find blood on your hands is awful as you are literally scratching your skin away and still cannot ease the itchiness. Also I have patches around my trouser waist band so where possible I try to wear leggings as jeans tend to aggravate and rub it. Also around my bra line is so painful so as soon as I get home the bra comes off!

Embarrassing - 
Aside from the physical pain the emotional impact is huge. I no longer have the confidence to go swimming, put on a dress or do anything that will involve me having to come into skin to skin contact with someone. I am always thinking that people are disgusted when they look at me. Like I am the type of person that would put them off their food.
Holidays are the worst - the thought of going to a hot country where I have to wear swimwear and shorts/ tshirts etc fills me with a huge amount of dread.
I usually try to head off the embarrassment by talking about my condition up front. I would just rather people didn't talk behind my back about what I must have so I over compensate and bore the crap out of people with the history of my psoriasis... much like I'm doing here LOL

Even at home I am loathed to let even my husband see my skin. He tells me that he doesn't see it and that he loves me so much it simply doesn't bother him but I just can't help thinking "this isn't what he signed up for", I wasn't this vile when we married etc.

Anyway so as you can see its been a horrible time. To top this off about 5 years ago I began suffering from a condition called psoriatic arthritis. It is basically an arthritis condition that stems from the skin condition. This is mainly located in my feet and when it first started I actually couldn't walk. I need a walking stick to help me get around. I am now on great tablets that have got me back to "almost" normal again ie I can walk but if I walk to far or stand for too long I am in excruciating pain. which means my weight has taken a bit of an uplift as I struggle to find an exercise I can manage.
I digress as this is not the focus today but if you didn't feel sorry for me yet I'm hoping that may have swung it.

Treatment - 
Oh the road of treatment was long and frustrating. Every visit to the doctor would see me come out with yet another ointment, cream, topical treatment that just doesn't work. Well they usually worked for about a week or two and then my skin would end up worse than when I started as it flares up.
I tried plenty of herbal options and even tried dietary things like cutting out dairy - all of which failed.

The thing that would drive me crazy the most is that people are constantly offering up things you should try as it "worked for my friend" (god I have heard that phrase so many times). I know people are trying to help but unfortunately everyone is different and at this point I have tried EVERYTHING.

The thing I wanted more than anything else was light treatment as this is a much more powerful way of tackling it. Every time I went to the doctors and asked I was told that my skin was not bad enough for a referral!!!!

So last year when I was doing everything I could to not rip my own skin off I snapped, marched down to the doctors and demanded they refer me to a dermatologist and I was not leaving until I got my referral. IT WORKED!

I only had to wait 2 months for the dermatologist appointment. She tried to fob me off with more creams until i stopped her mid sentence and explained I was only interested in light therapy and she WAS going to refer me. This was back in November 2018 and today (February 2019) I had my first light therapy treatment.

It may work, it may not but after years of fighting with my GP I have finally got here.

See next blog for details on the light therapy.
See photo below of my arm on day 1 of therapy, I will be keeping a track of these patches over the 30 treatments I am due to have

Four weeks in and still strong

I am now into week 4 of the Cambridge diet and it is going well.
I am still as committed as I was at the start. Don't get me wrong I am not a saint and have had a couple of little cheats:

• I attended a wedding and may have indulged in a few (too many) glasses of red wine
• On my daughters birthday I did have a (small) slice of cake
• Last weekend we went to Thorpe park and I had a KFC 
• Finally I had a very small roast dinner last Sunday.

Not great I know and I am sure Debbie (my weight plan consultant) will read this and tell me off next week but what I am impressed with is the things I have chosen to cheat with. I am no longer craving chocolate, crisps, cakes etc it is really only actual food that I am craving.

The thing I want the most is a slice of toast with peanut butter (this will be the first thing I have when I stop the diet). 

I have learnt that actually the small portioned meals I am allowed do fill me up and this is something I will carry on way beyond this diet. Portion sizes will be so important in keeping the weight off. Also my evening snacking has been actioned completely out of habit and not hunger. Again, this will be another take-away (not that kind of take-away lol) that I hope to continue as part of a new lifestyle.

The biggest difference is my health. I suffer from crippling psoriatic arthritis (mainly in my feet). At one point I couldn't get about without the aid of a walking stick and even took to working from home for a period of time due to the mobility issues.

This is completely gone. To the point that I no longer take the ridiculously strong drugs anymore and have even been discharged from my arthritic consultant as I am simply pain free.

This has enabled me to raise the bar with my exercise and I have even started running which is something that was virtually impossible over the last 5/6 years. I am only averaging 3 miles at a time but I feel so energised and keen to get out and run more.

I am also able to do more at the gym and just want to be active as much as I can.

The weight has not been coming off at the rate I would have hoped but it is still coming off so I am happy. This just proves to me that my metabolism is very slow which would explain why no other half hearted diets or exercise regimes have worked.

This is how my weight has moved:

Started - 13st 11.5lbs

Week 1 - 13st 8.25lbs (3.25 lbs off)

Week 2 - 13st 5.75lbs (2.5lbs off)

Week 3 - 13st 6lbs (0.25lbs on - red wine & cake)

Week 4 - 13st 3.5lbs (2.5lbs off)

Total loss in 4 weeks - 8lbs (over half a stone)

I have only started running in week 4 so I would hope in the coming weeks/ months the running will move things up a notch too.

This week I have had a number of comments telling me it's really starting to show. I can't really see this myself but it's a nice boost and if other people see it then the hard work must be paying off. 

Next week I am getting my measurements done so I will be intrigued to see what I have lost in inches. Onwards and upwards 

Cambridge or bust

Any of my regular readers will know the weight struggles I have endured over the last 9 years. I have tried a variety of ways to shift the pounds but nothing has worked. Here is a summary of some of the things I have tried and failed at:

So reaching a desperation point I came across the Cambridge weight plan. I bumped into a friend I hadn't seen for a while who had lost a fair amount of weight. She told me about this weight plan she was trying. She had lost a stone in about a month.

"Perfect" I thought, this could actually be the one that works for me as it is essentially cutting down your calories via shakes and other products and burning off your fat reserves.

I immediately searched for a consultant online and made an appointment.
I met my consultant, Deborah, last week. She explained the plan and we discussed my goals. We then chose my products for the week, I paid and away I went.

Due to some medication I take I can only start from step 2 which means I have a product (shake) for breakfast, another product (I chose another shake) for lunch, a protein type bar for a snack and then a small meal in the evenings. When I say small I really mean small, I can have about 170g of protein (slightly smaller than a chicken breast) and 80g of vegetables or salad (which is smaller than my hand). I must drink a lot of water and I can still have tea and coffee but need to have skimmed milk and sweetener instead of sugar.

Day 1:
The first day was hell and I was hungry all the time, It made me realise how much I was picking at things when I got home from work and how quickly the calories must add up. Went to bed early to get over the feeling of hunger.




Day 2:
Even harder but was enjoying the shakes. I spread them throughout the day a bit better and even held off having my breakfast shake until 10am which helped.

Day 3:
Getting easier but the cravings for bread or crisps are very powerful. I found having a cup of tea helped stave off the hunger.

Day 4:
Feeling really pleased with myself for doing so well with no cheating. This feeling is keeping me motivated. Also getting irritated at the amount I need to pee due to the water intake.



Day 5:
The weekend!! this was hard. Being at home surrounded by food is tough. So I kept busy and even cleared the cupboards out of all the junk food. I boxed up all the sweet treats and put them out of sight which has helped keep away the temptation.

Day 6:
Took the kids out and stopped at Costa, the kids were hungry and wanted a sandwich. I cannot believe I was strong enough to only get a black coffee and watch the kids eat in front of me with no temptation, not even when my daughter couldn't finish hers. I simply put it straight in the bin whereas usually I would have just eaten the leftovers.

Day 7:
That is today. Still going strong even with cookies sat next to me at work. I am looking but not touching. I am getting weighed tonight so will be the moment of truth. I am really nervous about this. If I have worked this hard and only lost a pound or two that will be hard to swallow !?! and will be difficult to keep motivated.

A couple of extra things to mention is how bloody great I feel. I suffer from psoriatic arthritis and usually have swollen feet, I cannot walk too far without them hurting. However right now my feet are not even remotely swollen and my feet are pain free which is unheard of especially after a busy weekend.
I am sleeping better and my head feels clearer and sharper. I have not taken an anti-depression tablet for over a week now and still feel great.
Finally, I think the reason this works for me is due to the support from my consultant. She has been incredibly supportive and I know she is there if I start to struggle.

Anyway, enough babbling. Fingers crossed for the weight in tonight. Will updated tomorrow.

***UPDATE****
So I lost 3.25 lbs. This is slower than both myself and the consultant were expecting but its still a bigger loss in a week than I have achieved doing anything else. Deborah has advised that I may be a slow starter and may see bigger losses over time.

I am still happy with this loss though because if I did the same for the next 4 weeks that is almost 1st in a month and the health improvements are amazing and very unexpected.

A clumsy farewell

In my current workplace situation there are a number of people leaving before my final departure which fills me with dread.
Yes, I will miss most of them and yes, I have enjoyed their company and yes, I wish them well in their next move. The dread actually surrounds the ALWAYS clumsy and awkward farewell.

The easiest goodbye's come after a number of drinks at the leaving party in the local pub. There are hugs and platitudes galore - promises to stay in touch and meet up regularly which, most of the time, just translates to adding each other on facebook.

The goodbye's that I dread are the ones in the office. Maybe they are leaving mid-week, maybe they are not having leaving drinks or maybe I can't attend the leaving drinks, whatever the reason this is by far the worst of all.

I will spend all day reminding myself to ensure I make the gesture before I leave the office. I have, on a few occasions, got so wrapped up in myself that I forgot and just left the office normally only realising the following work day that I neglected to wish them well - these are the people that don't add me on facebook!
I also try to come up with a witty goodbye gesture ahead of time so that I am prepared. The worst part is that your awkwardness is witnessed by all your colleagues which just magnifies how uncomfortable you are as you hug this departing colleague even though you have probably never even touched before this day.

Since the relocation announcement of my company there are 7 of us now leaving. Unfortunately I will be the very last out of the door so have to endure 6 awkward goodbye's!

We are two down now and the first wasn't too bad, we had drinks the previous Friday but it was a following mid-week leaving. So at my leaving time I scuttled over, clammy hands and all, wished him well and had the obligatory hug. This one wasn't too bad as the colleague in question really has been one of my favourites and I was genuinely sad to see him go so no faking needed to come into play - facebook added.

The next was one of my favourite routes of goodbye's - the disappearing act. This colleague hasn't been here very long but sits across from me so have got to know him pretty well in a short space of time. I was thinking of what I may say when I popped out to get my lunch and when I returned there was an empty chair. He scarpered, went home sick. He didn't even leave an email to say goodbye, just ran off in the night (lunchtime actually but that doesn't have the same ring). So I am sad in some respects as he didn't say goodbye to me, the face he has had to stare at for the last eight months, but grateful in another as he has saved me from an awkward rambling of goodbye's and "we must meet up" (which is my go to in situations like this).

So four more to go before the worst of all which will be mine when I will have to endure the awkwardness 15 - 20 times over as I say goodbye to all those that will make the effort. I like the disappearing act option. The dread is rising just thinking about it.

Time for a career change

I have worked at my company for almost 15 years... yes that's right 15 years.
When I began at the very young age of 18 it was just a job, something to provide me with money and perhaps an extended set of friends but nothing more.

The company itself specialises in reputation (or media) analysis which usually leaves people staring blankly at me uttering the now famous words "oh, ok that sounds...interesting". In a nutshell (and in no way doing this industry justice) we track and measure the effectiveness of communication activity and what impact it really makes to the company - so is your PR/ Marketing actually doing what it should be. In a recent job interview the MD of a marketing agency said "wow, it's amazing what these companies will pay for" which I smiled politely to as I wanted the job but in all honesty I was a little hurt.

Over time I began to see this more as a career and became quite ambitious to great effect. Several promotions later I became the youngest Account Manager in the history of the company and went on to win a platinum industry award (first platinum the company had ever won).

I have learnt so much about the media, communications and business strategies. For example I could tell you which countries have the most censored press or which messages McDonald's are trying to get you (the public) to believe in.
The biggest part of my job that I have loved is the exposure to some really quite impressive clients and people, it's not everyday you are told that your report was shown to the Home Secretary for example. Our CEO was also an incredibly remarkable woman who had such gravitas in the communications world and I had the absolute fortune to learn from her first hand. She was one of those women that you instantly respected and wanted to please. She climbed the ladder in a period where this was really a mans world and showed everyone that women could do just as well if not better.

Anyway I digress, this all underpins the reason my latest decision has been an incredibly difficult one. We were told in November that our Godalming office will be closing down and that we will be relocating to the head office in Moorgate, London. This wouldn't happen until February this year so we had some time to think about our options. Voluntary redundancy was dangled in front of me and two weeks ago, after spending Christmas flipping from one decision to another, I decided it was time to leave.

My leaving has been met with a really flattering response - some in denial that it's happening, others hysterically trying to compute who will take on my extensive workloads, some are really happy for me and one or two haven't even acknowledged the fact. I agreed to stay until the end of February so there has been plenty of time to think and regret but something has changed in me. I am suddenly thriving on the idea of a new challenge, learning new skills, really getting my teeth into a new role and carving out a new version of me - a more mature me.

I am really keen to move into the Digital Marketing world and am taking steps to make this happen. Getting back up to speed with social media being a first start ie blogging again :)
I am also looking at enrolling to complete a Marketing diploma which is so exciting.

I have a rush of so many emotions on a daily basis, nervous and sad to be leaving behind a huge part of my life but this is by far outweighed by the excitement I feel for the endless possibilities ahead of me. I know I can achieve anything I put my mind to and that I am the only person stopping me so onward and upward... either that or I will be penniless by the end of the year and begging to come back to my current role ;)

Wish me luck!

The Painted Woman

Love them or loathe them most people have an opinion on tattoos.

I have always loved them and actually think I have an addiction.

I had my first tattoo when I was 18, it is a hummingbird on my right shoulder blade. I didn't tell anyone I was having it and didn't even go prepared. I just knew I really wanted one and that inspiration would hit me in the shop. I wasn't even nervous, just very excited.
So in I went with my passport at hand (for ID) and little did I know I had been lucky enough to get an appointment with someone who was renowned for his talent in this field. It was in Trollspeil in Guildford.

It came out really well and in my opinion didn't hurt at all. At the pub that night no one believed it was real and someone even tried to scratch it off - now that did hurt.

I wanted another straight away but decided to wait otherwise where would it stop...

So after I got married I treated myself to the next tattoo which was of a beautifully detailed rose at the base of my spine. Again, it didn't hurt and came out really well. This was done in Tattooland in Woking and was actually very expensive in comparison to other places but there was no waiting list so that was enough for me.

The next one I had was on my wrist of a big blazing sun (in black ink) and my daughters date of birth. Her name is Summer so it seemed fitting. This one was not the best experience and I later found out why. It was at a place in Reading and was a complete impulse buy. About two weeks after having my baby my husband and I were visiting his work colleagues in Reading to have a coo over the baby. On our way we passed the tattoo parlor and I decided at that moment to get it done. What I wasn't aware of is that you shouldn't have a tattoo so soon after having a baby as your hormones etc can affect the ink.
It scabbed over quite badly and when the scab cleared up the tattoo was patchy and the ink clearly hadn't taken on patches of my skin. It just looks quite blurry. I do intent to have this corrected at some point but not yet got around to it.

The next was after I had my son a couple of years ago. I waited about a year after the birth and had his name 'Dexter' written very delicately on my other wrist. This one was done by a lovely young guy at Sins n Needles in Aldershot (http://sinsnneedles.co.uk/). It was quick, painless and very well priced. which is why I went back a year later to get the biggy done.
I have always wanted a big tattoo or half a sleeve done but was not quite brave enough until I came across a gorgeous lace piece that flowed across the back. I found it on a google image search and was compelled to book in as soon as I could. Emma Thorne was the girl for the job and what a job she did. It is like patches of lace stitched together draped from my left shoulder all the way across to my lower right side. The detail is incredible and it was three hours of freehand work.
I was nervous about the freehand aspect but I needn't have been. She truly is skilled in her art. I would recommend her to anyone. (https://www.facebook.com/emmathornetattoo)

On later reflection I decided that I would like some additions to the lace which I have not sorted out yet. I suffer from psoriasis and at the moment I have a few patches on my back which makes me too self conscious to go and have it worked on at the moment. Once it starts to calm down again i will go back in.

So that is my tattoo history so far...

I love my tattoos and, contrary to what my dad said when he saw my first one at age 18, I will never regret them as they are part of me and tell stories from parts of my life. It is like artwork on my skin that I am always proud to show off.

I plan to have more but it is finding the right pieces/ ideas that have meaning to me. I am still not ruling out a half sleeve too.

What are your opinions on tattoos? Turn on or turn off?

Stuck In The Middle With Kat

Someone recently said to me "you always seem to be caught in the middle of situations, not sure how you cope" and quite honestly it hadn't occurred to me until that moment, my friend was completely right.

It got me thinking about how that happens as the situations all differ and the relationships I have with those people all differ; some are close friends, some acquaintances, some are friends of friends, some are family, some are colleagues and on occasion it is people I barely know at all. On a night out I have been known to go out for a cigarette and end up staying there for an hour while I try to help some random stranger in need of advice.

Which leads me to my point, why is this the case?
Do I have a kind face, do I give good advice, is it my calm un-phased demeanor and ability to not judge people and remain unbiased, or is it simply that I put myself in that position by being nosy and assuming I can solve all the worlds problems?

Or is it for a completely different reason altogether. I like to help people and particularly like the buzz I get from making people happy so perhaps I seek out problems to fix. On further thinking it is not a completely selfless trait as there is a part of me that wants to be needed and I want to feel that people rely on me. Perhaps even a call for help that no one ever answers.

In previous blogs I have described my depression and how I have bouts of despair and unhappiness. I think it is this part of me that enables me to see despair in other people. I can recognise the false smiles and am never fooled by the "I'm fine" responses which leads me to push deeper. When I am at my lowest I am always left disappointed at the lack of support from other people. I am longing for someone to see through my fake smile and force me to accept a shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen without having to actually ask for help.
Of all the people I have ever known there are only two people that recognise this in me and see that I am starting to fall and that is my dad and a work colleague. Funnily enough those two people also suffer from depression so perhaps it is a secret code that only we see.
That is not to say my husband, family and friends are not supportive as that really isn't the case. I have some amazing people around me but unfortunately they don't see it until I have fallen deep into a slump.

So I have come to the conclusion that I get myself in the middle of people and their problems for three reasons:
1 - I genuinely want to help people and make everyone around me happy.
2 - Hoping that one day I will do this for someone who will do the same for me - searching for a like-minded person that I could use as a crutch in the future.
3 - I quite often have this feeling inside me of loneliness and if left with my thoughts for too long I will over-think and over-analyse stuff so getting involved in other peoples problems is a great distraction.

I don't think this is unhealthy and hopefully I have helped people along the way so perhaps this is one of those win win situations.

Pushy Parent

My daughter is 6 years old and, in my completely biased view, is quite talented.
I know a lot of people think that about their kids but she genuinely does have a sparkle.

Since she could talk she has sang and since she could walk she has danced. I thought this was quite normal and took no notice but promised that when she started school I would enroll her in some classes of her choice which ended up being ballet.

During her first term at the dance school they were putting on an inaugural show which she was delighted to be a part of. There were plenty of rehearsals and extended dance classes in preparation and when show night came I was amazed at the scale of it. They performed Cinderella with a cast of varying levels and ages and it took my breath away.
Summer, my daughter, only had a small part but I was so proud of her for getting up on the stage so fearlessly while hundreds of eyes watched on. She looked so tiny but I could see the exhilaration on her face. After the show she was beside herself with excitement saying that she loved the stage and wanted to be on there every night.

It has been a year since that show and she still attends the dance classes and has really come a long way in her ballet technique. She will dance around the house and in the supermarket and up the street (basically anywhere she can find the space) and it makes my heart melt every time.

Along with the dancing is her singing which has really crept up on me. After watching the new Disney film 'Frozen' she bought the soundtrack and spent the recent half term holidays acting out the film alongside the soundtrack. I am still amazed at how quickly she learns the words to songs and the passion she will sing with and all at the age of 6!

People often comment on her lovely voice and suggest she should be on the stage but I am not sure if I should push her or wait until she is older and more mature to take it seriously.
I looked into stagecoach which does the singing, dancing and acting but it is a bit out of my price range. There are other possibilities to get her more involved in this area but as always it is an investment so I will only let her do it if she is serious.

She watches the voice and Britain's Got Talent and tells me that she would love to go on that one day. She has even asked if it would be ok to make up and sing her own songs!

I am very careful to not be a pushy parent and blindly persuade my daughter she has real talent but there is no denying that she has got something and with the right training could go far. This is not a phase or something that she will lose interest in. From the age of 2 she was begging to be on stage with the performers during our annual Haven holidays.

I think I will investigate some local drama groups and see how she gets on. The minute she stops having fun we will stop. Watch this space as I think a star has been born.

The skydive happened

The day came around rather quickly and suddenly I was preparing to drive to Headcorn airfield for my skydive.
The week leading up to it I was waiting for the anxiety to start, for the whirl in the pit of your stomach and the feeling of regret but it never came.
I was so much more anxious about meeting my sponsorship target. Thanks to all the wonderful people that supported me I even exceeded it.

So the day arrived and it was an early start. We headed off at 6.30am in order to get to Kent for 8am.
The drive was tense with a car full (my husband, mum and children came to support me) but the tension was coming from my husband who seemed to be far more concerned than I was.
As with almost every car journey we take we missed a crucial junction and had to drive an extra 20 miles with my husband cursing that we would be late.

So after a bit of a detour we arrived about the same time as my four fellow skydivers from work. We signed in and filled out the relevant forms and then got called to our briefing. The instructor ran through all the do's and don't's in a comical but stern way. The underlying theme was "this will be fun but DO AS I SAY and no one will get hurt". We practised some of the positions - jumping and landing - and still I had no butterflies.

We then went out onto the airfield to enjoy the sun until our names were called. It was a long wait and we could watch the other skydivers descending to the ground.



Our turn arrived and everyone kissed their love ones goodbye as mine just flippantly waved and told me to have fun (we are not big on public displays of affection). We went through and in came stern instructor guy calling my name, he was my partner for the tandem jump. He suited me up and I looked utterly ridiculous, we went out for final checks and all my co jumpers appeared looking equally ridiculous. We then made our walk over the airfield the the pick up point.

The airplane was small and tinny and we were crammed in like sardines. I volunteered to jump last so I could watch everyone else leave so we had to sit right at the back. You practically had to sit on your partners lap which was a bit awkward. We waited a rather long time to ascend to the relevant height, hovering at 3,000ft which seemed pretty high but was only a third of where we were going.

As we reached the 12,000 ft height my instructor started running through what I needed to do and started clipping us together. Then the door was flung open and three pro's who were also on board jumped and disappeared in an instant, then it was my friends turn. One by one the were hung out of the door and then gone until I realised I was the only one left. We shuffled over and I was hung out of the door attached only by harnesses to my instructor. I got into my shuttlecock position (bending backwards with my head back) and out we went.

The rush of air completely took my breath away and I struggled to maintain a regular breathing pattern. It didn't feel as though we were falling which I think is down to the fact that above the clouds I couldn't make out the ground and therefore couldn't gain perspective.

I immediately thought "oh my god, I am actually doing this" closely followed by the immense pain I felt by the leg harnesses. they were pulled tight across my upper thighs and the restriction just felt as though it was cutting through as all my weight was being held by this. The parachute was then pulled and the pain didn't ease up so the instructor very kindly let me stand on his feet and take some of the pressure off my legs. It was only at this point that I truly took everything in and starting to enjoy it. After a few bumps the instructor apologised and said the parachute hadn't opened as smoothly as he would have liked (don't tell me that in mid air!).

I looked around and saw my fellow jumpers flying through the sky, it was truly surreal and you could see for miles.I was given controls of the parachute and was told how to do a spin which was amazing.

As we came into land I was told to raise my legs into the seated position but due to a brutal bootcamp session the day before my legs were not complying to my will. Just as we hit the ground my legs dropped and one leg was forced under us both and dragged a little distance. My instructor screamed at me "this is how people break their ankles" to which I responded "I'm fine honestly" as I gingerly tried to stand up. It was all fine and I was very lucky.

The minibus drove us back to our families who were shouting well done etc with massive amounts of pride and all I could think was "I want to do that again" closely followed by a feeling on sickness. I don't know if it was the rush of adrenaline, the spinning, the altitude sickness or the onset of heatstroke but I felt very nauseous (the kind you feel after a day on roller coasters).

I am immensely proud of myself and my colleagues for doing it and raising over £1000 for our charity (Shooting Stars Chase) and am already thinking about the next jump.