It's been almost three weeks since my surgery—the first of my plastics procedures to remove the excess skin and fat since abandoning the 110 pounds. The surgery took seven hours, which is the longest I've ever been under anesthesia. The surgeon performed an extended abdominoplasty, a tummy tuck combined with a bit of a lower body lift. She also did some lipo on my chin and my thighs, prepping for a medial thigh lift that will come in a few months. She said there really wasn't much fat to suck out of my thighs, attributing it to all the hard work I'd done over the previous fifteen months. In total, she took five pounds and fourteen inches of skin, leaving me with an incision that's three inches shy of running completely around my body.
The weirdest part was that I got a new belly button. It was strange to see it, raw and inflamed, after a week of recovery. (I was bound in compression garments and bandages, unable to see anything or even shower for the first week afterward.) It's the same original hole, I guess, with new skin stretched across and through it. It's a lovely belly button, but it's not mine.
And I really liked my old one. It was ridiculously deep—I'd often put a marble in it just for decoration—and quite lovely. This one will be beautiful once it full heals, but it's strange and foreign to me. I mean, your belly button is one of the first body parts you make. Any parent knows it's a big deal when their baby finds their belly button. It's a sweet, intimate part of a child. My mom was a little surprised to learn the one she'd given me was gone.
It's also been strange to be out of the gym for the past three weeks. I haven't not worked out for so long in months, and I feel the pull to be back. I'm ready to be moving again. Hopefully, I'll be released for the treadmill this week, though I know it's another three weeks until I can work with my trainer again. He expects it to take four-to-six weeks to get back to where I was before the procedure.
There's still a little swelling in my abdomen, and my thighs are still a bit sore from the lipo. But the swelling gets better every day. I'll be in these damn compression garments for another three weeks, to help the skin retract and to support the underlying muscles as they heal. I have a very defined waist now, and my belly is flat. I don't remember it ever having been so flat in my entire life.
Yes, the pain during recovery was severe. I was on heavy narcotics every four hours for days after, and they took their own toll on my system. Neither of my births was C-sections, so I can't be sure how similar the discomfort was. I can say that I felt like I'd been in a horrible car wreck, stiff and sore for several days. Coughing was sheer agony, and I tried to contain it until my pain medication had time to kick in. I really questioned a couple of days after if I'd done the right thing, if I'd maimed myself horribly. Two weeks later, seeing the first real results of the surgery, I knew I'd absolutely made the right choice for me.
Even with the layers of extra garments, my old jeans are a little big in the butt. I can't buy new ones until I'm fully healed. Yesterday, I tried on a little blue dress I hadn't worn in a while. The last time I wore it, I needed a Spanx to help corral Medusa. Now, it's a bit baggy where the beast used to be.
About nine years ago, I found grown-up Wonder Woman underoos: a red, tight t-shirt and blue-starred panties. They were a juniors XL, and there was no hope in Hell of fitting my ass into them. I loved them, though, and I held onto them, waiting for the day they would fit like I wanted.
Last night, I pulled them out of my drawer, just to see. It was good. I was joyously dancing in front of the bathroom mirror, admiring the expertise of my amazing plastic surgeon. She told me in recovery that I'd be thrilled with the results, and she was totally right.
When I was so sick from the medication, I questioned whether or not I was still willing to go on and have the other work done in a few months. A week later, the answer is a resounding YES! It's not a perfect body, by any means, but it's starting to look like I think it should, how I picture it when I think of myself.
I didn't do this for anyone but me, and I'm glad I did. DH certainly will benefit in his own way from my new body, and he's especially excited about the Wonder Woman panties. Mostly he's thrilled to see the beginnings of my new self-confidence. I'm excited, too, knowing one more piece of my puzzle has dropped into place.
