Small thighs and small minds

So, I've got four days until the compression garment comes off permanently, and I'm shit scared. It's become something of a safety blanket, the knowledge that my thighs may not look that skinny yet but hey, it's okay, you've still got to wear the garment so you're still healing! Right?
Wrong. I've spent the last two weeks oscillating between "oooh, skinny thighs!" and "Fuck, it hasn't worked. Sob". I'm currently in the latter of the two. Sadly, this means that I am now running mentally through the last month of all the times I took the garment off- should I have tried to use the little hole to wee through and sucked it up? Should I have showered less?? Am I expecting too much of this? Have I spent an inordinate amount of money on FUCK ALL? Yet last weekend, I took great joy in taking the garment off and replacing it with leggings just to see how it looked- and delighting in the fact that it seemed to have worked. What's even worse is that because my surgeon had to undergo surgery himself on his shoulder, my follow up appointment has been pushed back nearly a month. This means if anything has gone wrong, I'm buggered, essentially. I know, I should just wait and see what he says- but I can't bear the thought of having to go through this all again :(

On another note- this week I've enjoyed some of the small-minded foolishness I expected from getting lipo. I had made an enormous bowl of Eton Mess (for those of you who don't know what that is, it's double cream, crushed meringues and strawberries) and posted it on facebook. Someone then decided to berate me for eating dessert when I've had lipo. Clearly I had used lipo as an alternative to dieting/exercise etc. If this person had read my blog they would have read my first post which stated exactly why I was ONLY getting lipo on my thighs- ie, because they're the one place unaffected by diet or exercise. Sometimes I just don't see the point in explaining myself, as it clearly goes unnoticed by those who need it explaining the most. So let me clarify, for anyone who doesn't quite get it yet- I didn't get fat sucked out of my legs to make myself thinner, if I'd wanted to do that I'd have got it sucked out of my stomach. I did it for comfort, and because dieting and exercise did not help my thighs. All good? Excellent.


(Editorial Note: Following this post, said person had the good courtesy to email me and explain her comment was meant as nothing more than a joke on the irony of the situation. She did, unfortunately, bear the brunt of my frustration from various other people making far harsher comments and I apologise for that. For everyone else- what I said still stands.)

Toilet seats and scrotums (ooh-er)

Hello my lovelies

It's been a while since I wrote, mainly because the posts would have consisted of "ow, ow, buggering OW". Not terribly entertaining reading, but that was essentially what my day consisted of. That, and levering myself carefully up from and down onto chairs. I had also never fully appreciated quite how hard toilet seats are. Suffice to say, I spent a good few days oscillating between feeling particularly sorry for myself, and pumping myself full of delicious painkillers. Nurofen never tasted so good, baby.

On Thursday evening, however, I had the joy of my right ankle swelling up to a rather impressive size. This of course resulted in me hobbling around like a headless chicken until my surgeon called me and told me it was entirely normal. He wasn't sure why it was only the right foot, although I could hazard a guess- my right leg took more of a beating during the surgery- but nonetheless I would be fine provided I kept my foot elevated above heart level. Given that I couldn't bend to shave my legs at this point, his advice was appreciated but bloody difficult to put into practice. However, a foot stool and ALL THE CUSHIONS IN THE WORLD later and my ankle started going down. Dr. Grant Hamlet best quote so far: "Women's ankles swell after surgery, men's scrotums swell. Be glad you're a woman." Puts it in perspective, I suppose!

Friday during the day I was lucky enough to have a very good friend come round and keep me company which lifted my spirits considerably, as I'd only had my mother for company up until that point. I love her, but I also wanted to kill her a little bit. Anyway, so for anyone thinking of this kind of surgery (or any surgery, to be honest), organise a plethora of friends to come and see you on their various days off. It really really helps keep everything in perspective and cheers you up more than you realise. Although make sure that a) it's only one at a time and b) they won't mind if you fall asleep, as is an unfortunate side effect of the body using every reserve of energy you have to heal.

Friday night the boy turned up having travelled down from the Midlands to see me which was amazing and made me very happy- although I got a lot of "no sympathy, it's your own damn fault". Although I did get a rather gratifying "fucking hell baby!" on Saturday morning when I got out of bed and he saw the bruising all the way down the back of my knees and calves. TOLD you I wasn't exaggerating! I am, by the way, trying to upload some pictures to the blog of the bruising/surgery- not sure how it'll work out!

It is now Thursday of the next week and so far I've discovered that I can 1) fit into my skinny jeans again, although my knees are now the widest part of my leg which in itself is peculiar 2) Drive again even if it was a bit painful on Monday and 3) drink again without causing anything untoward to happen. I'm still getting hot flashes every now and then though which make me feel quite ill. I'll live. I did, however, feel pretty ill yesterday afternoon- I got very dizzy every time I moved and felt very sick, although I don't know if it was surgery related or a virus of some variety. Had a nap and felt okay, so clearly it's not in any way debilitating.

The back of my thighs are taking longer to heal than the front, presumably because my body weight is being placed on them frequently. However, the pain is now hardly noticeable unless I piss about and frankly, it's then my own fault. Intrigued to see how having sex is going to pan out though... I'll let you know (maybe) ;-)

A xxx