WHY I HAD BODY LIFT SURGERY.

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  Let me start by saying, I knew I was going to have body lift surgery before I even lost one pound. 


Me right before my weight loss journey (262 lbs and then me three months post-surgery (144 lbs). There was a very long two years in between these two pictures.


I knew if I put the crazy work in and actually lost over a hundred and twenty pounds, I was gonna want to go all the way with what my original goal was. I had a mission. Mission Sexy Bitch. So I put it in the back of my mind and didn't think about it too much. I just knew it was going to happen.

     What is a body lift? There are some different combinations of procedures that can be considered a body lift. My body lift was going to include an arm lift, a breast lift, a tummy tuck, and an upper thigh lift. If you look up body lift, you will get a variety of descriptions, but it always includes procedures from both the upper body and lower body.

I also wanted to have a scar revision done on an old botched hack job I had done as a result of an emergency appendectomy when I was a kid. The hack doctor cut me vertically (something you never do on the abdomen) and it resulted in a nasty formation that actually looked like an ass. Not joking folks, the skin on either side of it bubbled up and it looked like an actual ass. My closest peeps will tell you I speak the truth. It was totally an ass-belly. It made me so self-conscious my whole life. Honestly, I hated it worse than the hanging loose skin. Waaaay more. So to say I was excited to get it fixed is an understatement! 

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 It turned out that I had so much extra skin on my belly, my PS was able to COMPLETELY REMOVE IT!!!! The scar is gone! It wasn't just 'fixed', that son of a bitch was removed completely like it never existed in the first place! 
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     It needs mentioning that a body lift is not a means of losing weight

A body lift's main purpose is to remove loose skin and lift your parts up where they are supposed to be. Any reputable plastic surgeon will NOT perform a body lift unless you are near or at your ideal body weight. To give you a perfect example, after having an arm lift, breast lift, upper thigh lift, a tummy tuck, and some lipo in my legs, my post-op weight was only 6 pounds lighter, and just about all of that was from the skin removal.

     After 21 months of hardcore dedication, I was down to 150 pounds. Some hear 150 pounds and think that is still too heavy for my height of 5'4", but you must remember that muscle weighs much more than fat. And since I was solid muscle, I looked much smaller than 150 lbs. I was mere pounds away from my goal weight. My goal weight was 140. So I started researching plastic surgeons. I was online for hours and hours every night after my girls would go to bed.  I wanted the best surgeon. 

I didn't want to have gone all this time working so hard to lose my weight to only end up mangled by a hack doctor or have complications that would ruin my body (and that I'd have to sell my damn house to pay for more surgeries to fix it).  

I also read hundreds of articles and blogs on the procedures themselves to prepare myself mentally for what I was about to put my body through. After months of research as well as asking for references and opinions from doctors and nurses that I knew, I had initial consultations scheduled, a million questions written down, and a whole lot of excited butterflies in my belly. It was time to go see some doctors. 

Bring it the F on.

     In the month of August 2010, I had my consultations. I have to be honest, based on my research and what others (doctors, nurses, PS patients) had told me, I pretty much had my mind set on who I wanted to go with. But I wanted to hear different perspectives, see different facilities and be open to all of my options. It turns out after I saw all the plastic surgeons, the surgeon who I was leaning toward, Dr. Francis Johns, blew away the others. I purposely scheduled my appt with Dr. Johns last because I wanted to give the others a chance. But Dr. Johns, hands down, was the doctor for me. Not only is he highly regarded by all others in the medical profession, is a top-rated doctor in the tri-state area, and has won numerous awards for his work but he has the super-talented, super-confident, as well as the down-to-earth vibes going on. He doesn't bullshit you. And he will not agree to a procedure that he doesn't think you need. I love how upfront he is. For example, although he agreed I needed an arm lift, he took a lot of extra time to make sure it was what I wanted due to the scars it leaves. He wanted to make sure I was aware that while all my other scars would fade to be nearly invisible thin white lines, the arm scars would be thicker, more coarse, and would always be visible. 

I appreciated the honesty and the time he took, but my mind was made up. I hated how I had all this muscle mass and definition, but I couldn't see any of it because of the hanging skin. So I didn't care about scars. Scars, I could handle. And I can tell you, now that it is after-the-fact, the scars are a glorious reminder of what I've accomplished. 

I may be weird, but I love my scars. 

They remind me of what a tough bitch I am and how strong my journey has made me. I wear my scars with pride. But of course, that is my preference, many people would not want to have scars. To each his own.

My doctor also told me that not only would it be the worst pain of my life, it would be something I would not be able to prepare for or even fathom. He told me, serious as hell, that this would be ten times the pain of childbirth

He told me that the trauma my body would go through would be equivalent to that of a fatal car accident.  

I didn't care. I honestly didn't care. I had come too far to let pain stop me.

Pain is temporary. Pain doesn't scare me. This was happening. NOTHING would stop me. So I forged ahead and inside my head kept saying my mantra to myself...

'Bring it the F on'.

     I scheduled my surgery before I even left my consult appointment with Dr. Johns. It was set. I was so excited, I could have exploded. It was real. 

All that I did, every bead of sweat, every ounce of determination, every single second of the past 21 months....was all worth it. 

I was walking on air. That is a feeling I will not soon forget. Shit was about to get serious. Shit was about to get crazy. Shit was going down...and it was all happening on September 16th, 2010. Oh hell yeah! 

Bring it the F on.

     I had a few people in my life that were against the surgery. They could not understand why I wanted to have it done. They said I already looked good and I was crazy for spending money unnecessarily and risking complications. 

First of all, I did tons of research and spent a lot of time finding the very best doctor.

 Millions of people have plastic surgery. Any surgery of course has risks, but you drastically reduce the risks if you go to reputable docs, follow pre and post-op instructions, and are already a healthy candidate for the procedures. 

Secondly, these people didn't see me naked. 

In clothes I looked good, but underneath those clothes I didn't like what I saw. I had a lot of loose hanging skin on my upper thighs, stomach, and arms. And my breasts, forget about it. They looked like somebody put grapefruits in tube socks and sewn them on my chest. The shit was insane. I mean, I breast fed two babies, went up and down in weight for over a decade, and then lost over 110 pounds. My body was jacked, and the boobs took the hardest hit. For reals. So ya, after I stuffed my belly skin in my pants, covered my arms with long sleeves, and lifted my tits up off of my belly button and stuffed them in a bra, I didn't look bad to others. Not to mention I had to rearrange my nips and put them in the right place so I didn't look like I had googly eyes. Not joking, I had googly eye tits! 

So ya, I needed the surgery, I wanted the surgery, and to be perfectly dead ass honest, it's no one else's business. What I do with my money, my body, and my life...is nobody else's business. Period. The few people who mean most to me in the entire world were 100% supportive. That's all that mattered.     

Unfortunately, sometimes the people in your life you think you're close to, end up being jealous and unable to deal with the issues that your success has brought to the surface for them. This happens because you now represent to them everything they haven't been able to do. And it's not just if you're successful in losing a ton of weight, it's with any success. It hurts when someone you love and someone you thought loved you acts this way, but it will happen. I promise you. Beware and be ready for it.

      But again, my most important peeps were on board so I was bursting with excitement and looking forward to my future. Short sleeves and tank tops, here I come! I was fully ready to get rid of the tube sock boobs, the ass on my belly, and all the jiggly wiggly skin. 

Bring it the F on bitches!

" Life takes on meaning when you become motivated, set goals, and charge after them in an unstoppable manner." Les Brown


*I loved my body lift results and I will say that if I had to go back in time, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. HOWEVER, body lift surgeries are not for the faint of heart. 

For a more raw look at what it's like in the early stages of recovery from a full body lift, read my actual email update that I sent out five days post-op to my closest family and friends.

Related Link Below:

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*The information on this site is not intended or implied to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment. All content in this article is for general information purposes only. I am not a doctor, nor am I a dietitian. Talk to your physician before making any changes in your diet or exercise regimen. The information found in this article is from various sources which include, but are not limited to, the sites listed above. I encourage you to do your own research and talk with your physician before making any changes in diet or exercise. What has worked for me may not work for you. This information in this article or on this website should never replace or serve as medical advice.

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