The whole thing started when I was contemplating my navel. As clich??d as it sounds, I was bored, and instead of doing any of the billion things on my to-do list, I was pondering why my navel area was so squishy. I was careful about what I ate, I worked out daily, so why was it that my stomach never got flatter? I guess my stomach was what I might call a \problem area."" So how could I fix it?
Last year, I watched a special on TV that showed a liposuction procedure being done. I remembered they made very tiny slits in the skin, inserted a horrifyingly long needle called a cannula and maneuvered it under the skin to pull out unwanted deposits of fat. At the time, it seemed nauseating. Later, I wanted more information.
I began to surf the net and cruised through hundreds of sites, looking at thousands of before-and-after photos. These plastic surgeons could erase double chins, fat rolls, chunky thighs and more. I was completely enthralled.
According to the American Society of Plastic Surgeons, the number of liposuctions done annually in the United States has quadrupled in the last decade. Approximately 200,000 people are expected to undergo liposuction this year, making it the second most popular plastic surgery among adults. Nose-jobs were first for both sexes, breast augmentation was third for women and eyelid reshaping was third for men.
But was it something I wanted to do?
In 2001, more than 6.5 million women had plastic surgery, as did more than a million men. Of these, teenagers made up 2 percent of the total, but people in their 20s made up a large chunk of the total. Could I find others on campus who had done it?
I began asking around, and found out that plastic surgery was more common on campus than I thought. I found two men who made me swear not to reveal their identities under penalty of dismemberment, but who were willing to share their stories with me.
The first man, a 20-year-old sophomore from New York, had liposuction done to remove his love handles. He was very happy with his results.
""I guess I did it because I wanted to feel better about myself,"" he said. ""It was a shortcut-I don't have time to diet, and so for me, it was worth it.""
The other man, a 23-year-old senior from Minnesota, had liposuction to remove excess fat from his breasts.
""I decided to get liposuction after I saw that scene in Fight Club where they were making fun of Meatloaf's 'bitch-tits,'"" he said. ""Mine weren't that bad, but they were big enough to be embarrassing. My insurance even covered the breast reduction.""
Many female UW students have had liposuction as well. Most were thrilled with their results, but I met one who was not.
""I went about it with the wrong mentality,"" she said. ""I know liposuction is supposed to re-contour problem areas-not replace a diet, but I guess I was expecting to be re-contoured into Heidi Klum. I look better than I did before, but I wanted overnight results, and I didn't get them.""
Swelling after surgery can last up to six months, and results are typically not noticeable for three weeks.
After hearing this, I spent a month soul-searching and doing thousands of sit-ups. Nothing worked. I could not get rid of the stupid fat in my stomach area.
It occurred to me that I was obsessing over the fat. It was messing up my self-esteem. I could go to therapy to come to terms with my fat, to love my fat, or for roughly the same price, I could have it sucked out.
I decided to get the liposuction.
I researched doctors in the Madison area and finally chose Dr. Thomas Bartell for both his experience and because I had heard only good things about him. On his Web site, I was able to see pictures of other people on this page. Seeing their results helped me make my own decision to have the procedure. I went in for a consultation. He had me disrobe, and he sat on a stool and poked and prodded my fat. Finally, he nodded. ""You're an excellent candidate for surgery,"" he said.
I was strangely disappointed. I went home and sulked.
I called back a few days later and paid for the operation over the phone. Then I called my mother.
""I just wanted to let you know I'm getting a liposuction,"" I told her.
Silence. Then, ""You don't need it. It's dangerous, and your body is fine. I'm not paying for it.""
I told her I'd already paid for it myself.
She brightened considerably. ""Well, in that case, I think it's a great idea! I always thought you would look so much better if you just had a little trimmed off the thighs!""
Thighs.
Now I had something new to obsess about. Finally I went back to Dr. Bartell, who poked and prodded my fat again before agreeing with my mom. I paid the extra money to add my thighs to the surgery docket.
Now I was on the countdown. With my surgery date looming three weeks away, it suddenly seemed like I didn't have enough time to prepare. I had to buy frozen peas to use as ice packs, clear soda and soups in case of nausea, get prescriptions for painkillers and antibiotics, locate a ride to the doctor and back, schedule friends to deal with me for the first 24 hours and do schoolwork and homework in advance in case I would be absent.
I was so busy preparing for the surgery that I had no time to sit down and think about what I was doing until about five days before the operation.
A friend and I were sitting in a computer lab, and we were killing time by surfing really bad porno Web sites. I somehow ended up on a site that showed liposuctions that had gone horribly wrong. Rather than turn away, I went through the entire site, feeling like a rubber-necker at a car accident. I didn't want to look, but I couldn't stop.
I went home and became hysterical. What was I doing? I was risking my life-and my relatively flaw-free stomach-in pursuit of perfection. I could die in any number of ways. The doctor could mess up and suck out something he isn't supposed to, I could have a reaction to the anesthesia or I could develop a blood clot. There is a 10 to 15 percent risk of having lumps and contour irregularities after the surgery, which may be permanent. Not to mention the pain of the operation itself. And recovery time.
I had already paid for the operation, and if I cancelled at the last minute, I would have to forfeit about $1250. I couldn't throw that money away. Over the next three days, I became convinced I was going to die in surgery.
One of my friends laughed at me.
""You're certain you're gonna die but you're still going through with this? How badly do you need to be beautiful?""
I didn't have an answer. Good point.
The more I obsessed, the faster time passed. Before I knew it, I was actually there, preparing for surgery. The nurses and anesthesiologist came in and started an IV. Dr. Bartell came in with a big permanent marker, made me stand up, and doodled all over my stomach and thighs. All too soon, they rolled me into the operating room. They never told me to count backwards or anything, I just zonked out. I remember starting the Lord's Prayer, and then I just woke up in the recovery room. My first thought was ""Nice! I'm alive!""
I was wrapped in a compression garment-a really tight girdle that went from knees to ribcage. A nurse helped me dress, and then I finally got to leave. I had two friends waiting, who got me home and into bed. I was out like a light for most of the morning, and then various friends stopped by. For the rest of the day, my phone rang off the hook, and I had a ton of visitors. Everyone called every couple hours to make sure I was okay, and I was, albeit too stiff to move.
The next day, the swelling and pain were awful. I was immobilized. The third day, the pain had actually lessened to the point where I decided to ignore doctor's orders and remove the compression garment for an hour so I could clean it and myself. Without the girdle, my skin felt extremely weird. It was numb, sore, swollen, and... loose. I was actually grateful to get the girdle back on.
The following day, I looked in a mirror for the first time. I knew I couldn't expect results for two to three weeks, but I could see a difference. My stomach seemed smaller already.
A week later, major bruising appeared, and the swelling seemed to harden. This caused a minor freak-out, but turned out to be a temporary thing, and it went away after a few days.
They said my results wouldn't be obvious for three weeks or so, but every day I could see a small difference-by spring break, I was already flaunting my stomach instead of hiding it. I feel a million times better about myself.
I know ""liberated"" people everywhere are opposed to the idea of plastic surgery, and argue that we should de-emphasize looks and focus more on personality and intelligence. But somehow, I don't see that happening in my lifetime. I may get blasted for being shallow by saying this, but a person's appearance is the first thing others notice, and forms a basis for how people are judged. Looks are important. Therefore, I want to look as good as possible.
Would I recommend liposuction to anyone else? Maybe.Plastic surgery is a drastic measure. It involves making permanent alterations to a person's appearance. And there is never a guarantee, never a way to predict exact results. It's expensive, painful and serious abuse to a body. Six weeks later, I still have numb areas on the backs of my legs, but that's supposed to fade over time.
On the other hand, I have more confidence in myself than ever before. When a guy put his arm around my waist last week, I didn't automatically suck in my stomach and panic, like I would have done months ago. For the first time since I was a kid, I feel comfortable in my body. And I don't think I could put a price on that.