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Patient's Story - Mary Hennessey

 

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Surgery performed by
Dr Luke Gordon , Johannesburg, South Africa
Procedures : U&L eyes, nose tip refinement, face & neck lift, filler to the lips


'that's life!'    Magazine 21 October 2004

My facelift revenge - I had the last laugh on cheating Mick

Written by Kelly Strange

front cover of 'that's life' magazine

 

 

 

 


Waking up, shifting in bed, my thigh brushed against the big, hairy leg next to mine.  
Which was all it took… ‘Mick’?   I murmured.   He opened one eye, gave me a lazy, sexy stare.   In moments, we were making love.

 

Mary's wedding day.

Why, I wondered, didn’t more women realise what the secret of a great sex life was?   A much younger, horny man.  I was 52, my hubby Mick, only 36.   And our six-year marriage just got better every day.

I didn’t look my age.   With a size 10 figure, I was lithe and trim.   Mick, a JCB driver, was always praising me.  I’d been married before, had three sons, Wayne was 32 – close to Mick’s age – Paul was 22 and Robert, my youngest, 14.

I’d wanted a baby with Mick, but doctors found I’d stopped producing eggs – the only time my age had bothered me.  Mick, though, accepted it.   ‘It just isnt’t meant to be, he’said.  

 

Mary before surgery

Instead, we’d left London for the countryside of Tipperary in Ireland.   I loved the gentler pace of life.   The only drawback was money – or lack of it.  So Mick came up with a plan.   ‘There’s a job going for a manager on a building site’, he told me.   ‘In London’.   My heart sank.   It was so far away.   ‘I’ll be back every weekend to see you,’ he promised.  Well, we did need the money.

So I waved him off.   And after a couple of weeks, I was even enjoying it.   Mick’s homecomings felt like dirty weekends.  Then, one time, he didn’t turn up.   ‘Sorry, I’ve been working flat out’ Mick said on the phone.  I hated this.   ‘We should be together,’ I told myself.   So I took Robert and I went to stay in London too – with my brother Pat, who was putting Mick up.

 

Mick was shocked.   ‘I still won’t see you in the week,’ he explained.   ‘I’ve started kipping in the car near the site – saves me an hour’s drive each way.’  Yet again, I had to put up with seeing Mick only at weekends.   Then six weeks on, when Friday came around, he didn’t return.  I waited, my emotions swinging between fury and worry.   Finally, on Monday morning I tracked him down at the building site.  ‘I went on a bender,’ he said.   Out playing the lad all weekend while I waited at home?   He’d have to explain himself a lot better than that.

I waited for the next weekend, determined to have it out with him.   But on Friday, Mick dropped his bag, stared at me with eyes like ice.   ‘I’ve met somebody else…’ he said.   What?   ‘And she’s my age’, he spat.

It’s a joke.   He’ll laugh now.   But when he didn’t, I looked down at my hands.   They were trembling like an old lady’s.   An old lady. Oh, God – was that how he saw me?  ‘But I thought we were happy together’, I sobbed.  He just shrugged and left.

All I did for those next days was cry.   Pat tried to console me.   I’d been so smug about my toyboy.   Now I’d been dumped

Then, after five weeks, Mick came to see Robert.   He seemed different, shy.   ‘I did love you,’ he said. ‘But I have to be with her’.  Mick was fingering a gold St Christopher medallion round his neck.   A present from her?   When he left, I hurried to the bathroom to splash water on my face, wash away my tears.   But as I stared into the mirror, I saw my reflection – all grey with saggy skin and puffy eyes .

 

I pictured Mick’s dolly bird – smooth-skinned, pert, glowing.  I couldn’t stand it, I needed to see what she had that I didn’t.

I discovered her name – Barbara Witham – and got a private detective to find out where she and Mick were living.  

The other women!

Then I was hammering on the door of their love nest in Chingford, Essex.

Barbara opened it, I stared at her, stunned.  She was ordinary .  Younger than me, yes.  But prettier?  I didn't think so.

 

'Why did you steal my husband?' I cried.  'Couldn't get your own man?'  The door slammed in my face and all my anger drained away.  What did it matter what she looked like?  Mick prefered her.  I slunk home, desperate to put it all behind me.

Only, Mick kept popping round to see Robert - and I couldn't stop clinging to the hope he'd come back for good.  When he'd been gone six months, I heard Barbara was having his baby.  I crumpled - that was the one thing I hadn't been able to give him.  Because I was dried up like a bundle of old twigs, had wrinkles on top of wrinkles.

 

 

Then, flicking through a magazine, an article made me freeze.  It was about a woman who'd had a facelift in South Africa.  The 'before' picture showed her with a dangling turkey neck just like mine.  But the 'after' - wow!

Suddenly I realised that, with a few nips and tucks, I could win Mick back.  I compiled my shopping list - smaller nose, fuller lips, no wrinkles - and made arrangements.  It would all cost £4,500.  But Mick was worth it.

Wayne, my eldest, gave me the money.  Two months later, I was on my way to Johannesburg.  

Mary marked up ready for surgery.

I had the 2 hour op, 3 days on.  My eyes were taped shut for 48 hours.  Then finally, the bandages came off.  My face was swollen, bruised - but the wrinkles were gone.   I looked 15 years younger - and ready for all out war!  I spent 3 weeks recovering at my hotel then flew to London.  Letting myself into Pat's house, I jumped - Mick was sitting there.  Why are you here?  I gasped.  But he was staring. 'your face', he said what have you done?  I felt awkward.  There was still some bruising.  I'd wanted to look great when I finally saw him.  'I've had some work done', I said.  But as I began to explain, I stopped.  I looked at him there, slobbed out.  Who did he think he was?

The new Mary.

The magazine feature.

 

 It was as if blinkers had fallen from my eyes along with the bandages.  I'd spent two and a half years pining for a man who'd treated me like dirt.  and the feeling that rose up wasn't just anger, it was pride.

Once my bruises were gone, I'd have a perfect, younger face.   Too perfect for Mick.   'I'd like you to go'  I said.  ' now'.  Mick looked shocked.  And as the door shut behind him, I tingled.  I was the winner - And boy, did it feel good.  

Six months on, I'm dating a man of 45.  I havn't seen Mick since.  He's still with Barbara.  

Good luck to them.  Thanks to their betrayal, and my new face, I'm a confident, very happy me.

 

 

Linda helped Mary arrange her trip to South Africa.

Telephone her on
0044 (0 1354 610368

 

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