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With a feeling of utter horror, I realised what it meant...that even my most intimate areas were revoltingly fat.
My newly taut, tucked tummy only emphasised this bulge. When I
wore trousers, I didn't look like a woman.
'It's got to go too,' I decided.
I was just days off the operating table, yet already contemplating another round of surgery.
So I began saving up all over again. As I worked and scrimped, I developed a horrible groin infection. It was because my huge thighs got so hot rubbing together. It stung when I peed, and caused a nasty discharge.
I tell you this only to show how extreme weight-related problems can be, and how necessary
it was for me to shed my fat by the quickest method possible.
Antibiotics cleared the infection, but after that I needed up to three baths a day, and had to carefully wipe inside every crease and fold of flesh.
Let me tell you, it was hardly sexy. My confidence hit an all-time low when it came to our marital relations. I took to wearing long T-shirts in bed to hide my big sweaty thighs.
Tony was still cross that I'd had the operation. 'No more — you've been through enough,'
he said, gazing at the fading scars on my boobs.
But I barely even noticed them.
'You can't stop me,' I told him bluntly. So again, he could do nothing but support me.
After three years, I'd saved another-£11,500 by doing extra shifts at the hospital.
This time Linda put me in touch with a French cosmetic surgery clinic, which was offering a pioneering operation in Tunisia.
It was called a lower body , lift, and I would be one of the first people ever to have it done.
Tony
went white when I told him about it, but I wasnt scared. I wanted it that badly.
My legs would be unpicked like the sleeves of a shirt, the fat taken out, then stitched up again nice and thin.
When I received a phone call to say I'd been accepted for the surgery, I was so happy.
A month later, I flew to Tunisia with Tony, who watched while I stood naked in front of the surgeon as he scribbled all over me in black pen to mark where to cut into me.
I wasn't embarrassed. This
man was an artist, though Tony didn't know where to look.
The operation went ahead. I was cut open from knee to groin, my excess fat scooped and sucked out Then I was stitched up again. It took seven hours.
When I came round, I lifted up the blankets. Through the light bandaging I could see two thick, brutal scars running like seams down my legs.
I look like a rag doll that's been hurriedly tacked together, I thought. But I could also see I had skinny thighs!
And my man-bulge was gone too.
This operation reduced my weight by a further 21 pounds. Now-l' weighed 16st3lb, which I hadn't been since my teens.
When I left hospital a week later, even Tony had to agree I looked fantastic.
Now I'm loving my new body. I often dress up in a white thong and stockings to remind Tony what a good idea it was.
So now what do you make of my methods? I've lost four stone by going under the knife. I will never diet again.
Instead,
I'm saving up for a facelift and to have my bingo wings lopped off. Why be fat when a nip and tuck can make you gorgeous? And why diet and work out when you can buy the body of your dreams?
Charlotte Sutton got it wrong and I pity her. Mark my words — maintaining that skinny figure will be a millstone round her neck.
BARBARA WOODHAM, 52, BRIDGEND, MID GLAMORGAN
• For information on cosmetic surgery, visit lindabriggs.co.uk.
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