Third boob job!
Her boobs were uneven
Monday 25th August 2008
I threw my top on the floor and collapsed onto my bed in a fit of tears.
'What on earth's wrong?' my boyfriend, Dave Whitcomb, asked.
'I've got nothing to wear,' I cried.
You're probably thinking it was all a bit dramatic. After all, choosing an outfit for a night out is hardly the most stressful thing in the world. But it was for me.
Because no matter what top I put on, I knew it was there underneath. My right breast. Scarred, deformed and ugly. Ever since going through puberty at the age of 13, one breast had been bigger than the other. My right boob was an A-cup, but my left was a D. It had made me miserable for years, caused me and my husband of two-and-a-half years, Phil Skingle, 23, to split up in June 2006, and made me hate looking in the mirror. And even though I'd been with Dave, 26, for a year, and he said he wasn't bothered about my lopsided breasts, I was.
Because after meeting Dave, things had gone from bad to worse. In December 2006, I'd borrowed £6,000, and my dad, Tony, 42, had put £3,000 on his credit card so I could have a boob job done at a private clinic in Brussels. Only the operation had left me in agony. My right breast had started oozing pus and I'd got an infection. A course of antibiotics had cleared it up, but I'd been left with a hole under my right breast and horrible scarring around both nipples and under both breasts.
To make matters worse, my breasts still weren't the same size. While the left one was still a D-cup, my right was only a C-cup. So now, it was July 2007, seven months after my operation, and I still had to stuff my right bra cup to look normal. That night, I spent hours searching through my wardrobe for something to wear to the pub, but no matter how nice the top was that I put on, I still knew how horrible I looked underneath.
'You look great,' Dave shrugged.
But in The Grand pub in Leigh-on-Sea, I was sure everyone was staring at me, that they could see the ugliness inside. And over the two next weeks, it seemed all Dave and I did was argue.So I moved out to my mum Anna's, now 40, in Canvey, while Dave was at the pub one night.
'I wish I'd never had my boobs done!' I cried to Mum.
'Go back to the clinic in London that arranged the operation,' she advised. 'Maybe they can help.'
So, two months on, I did.
'Isn't there anything you can do?' I pleaded.
'It's possible,' the surgeon said. 'But the operation would cost £3,500.'
'I don't have any money left. Please help me,' I begged.
'I'll look into it,' he promised.
I spent the next few months utterly miserable. Now my boobs really had ruined everything. I was single, scarred and the future looked bleak.
Then, in February 2008, I got a call from the clinic. The surgeon had agreed to operate again, this time for free. I was so excited, my screams of happiness must have practically deafened the woman on the other end of the phone. She explained how the surgeon was going to replace both my implants to make my breasts look more alike. Then he'd be able to reduce some of the scarring on my left breast, and close up the hole in my right. I knew my boobs wouldn't be perfect, but at least they'd look more normal. But over the next month, the excitement wore off and the doubt crept in. What if it went wrong again? What if my boobs looked even worse? But there was only one way to find out.
So, in March, I put my terror to one side, and my friend, Toni Dowsett, 22, and I drove back to Brussels for my operation. When I woke up after the surgery, I shifted in bed, and braced myself for the pain I'd felt last time.
'Well?' Toni asked.
I looked down at my boobs.
'I can't feel anything,' I said, bewildered.
That's good, isn't it?' she smiled.
Turns out it was. This time, the operation had been a success and, the next day, Toni drove us back to the UK.
Back home the following day, I had to clean the wounds. This was it, the moment of truth. My hands trembled as I started peeling off the bandages. Then, as I stood in front of the mirror, I let out a sigh of relief. The stitching was small and tidy, and there was no sign of infection. My boobs were a proper E-cup, and closer to the same size than they'd ever been in my life. Four months on, my boobs aren't the only things that have changed. Now, I'm happy, confident and never short of something nice to wear!