I don't wanna have to wear that suit of skin.

I'm a little over a day away from what should be my last plastic surgery procedure, post weight loss.  I'm nervous as hell. 

This part of the journey started a few months ago, when I couldn't stand to look at the loose skin left over from the 115 pound loss.  I chose my surgeon carefully and started the process of what would be three lengthy procedures and recovery.

The first surgery was February 1, 2012.  In about seven hours, my surgeon removed 14+ inches of skin from my belly and hips, tightened up my abs, did some preliminary lipo on my thighs, and liposucked my chin.  The incision runs almost all the way around my body. 

The second surgery was April 25^th.  She removed the bagging skin from under my arms.  The incisions start just above my elbow and run along my inner arms, past my armpits, down just under the edge of my bra.  They're still red and a little raised but are mostly hidden when my arms are down.  She also did a full breast lift and augmentation.  In two years, I went from a 42DD to a 36DDD.  The implants are 90% settled.  Most of those scars have faded already.  And, yes, they look and feel quite natural.  Six hours.

The last procedure will be on August 1^st—six months to the day after the first one.  It's a thigh lift, both inner and outer, with some extra lipo to help sculpt the thighs.  This is expected to last about five hours.  

I'm so damn ready for this. 

It's crazy to see my body now.  When I went for my pre-op appointment last week, I saw the before pictures from my last surgery.  I was shocked.  Seeing the me from just three months before felt like looking at the pastiest National Geographic refugee ever.  It was bizarre to remember how my body felt with the extra baggage.  It already seems like a lifetime ago. 

And the new body isn't perfect.  I didn't expect it to be.  I expected it to be natural and much more representative of how I thought of myself and how I wanted to see myself in the mirror.  There are scars and stretch marks and imperfections, and I'm incredibly pleased with all of it.  I would do it again in a heartbeat—regardless of the pain and the minor complications after. 

What I found through all of this is that I'm strong—much, much stronger than I ever realized or gave myself credit for being.  I knew I could do a lot.  I'm a force of nature, after all.  I've been through a lot of crap in my life, but this has been like none of that.  This was totally voluntary and totally necessary for me.  It has been a blessing of challenges and tests to see what I could do and how I would handle it. 

I don't know what's coming next.  I'm a month away from turning 40, and I intend to enjoy every second of it.  I will go into that next stage of my life with a whole new perception of myself, both inside and out. 

So cross your fingers that all goes well.  I'm back in the hands of my incomparable surgeon and her incredible staff.  And I have a fresh pedicure for the event.