Day 3, no regrets so far. Tidying up ready for my golden years

Being born with a big hooter and then having breast cancer at 37, set me on a lifetime of 'normalising' surgery. Two rhinoplasties, breast implants and various attempts to correct my breast asymmetry went some way to removing my emotional scars: Scars of waking into a classroom where my nose was being discussed.. or knowing that I could have died young from the tumours I was so lucky to have found early. Lumpectomy of the cancer followed by radiotherapy led to boob asymmetry.

Over the years my boobs had grown more and more different and although I loved myself, I knew I didn't have to stick with it. I'd always had mixed feelings about implants. They could be fun in the bedroom but never felt like 'me'. They weren't natural. I couldn't buy pretty bras and had to satisfy myself with the least matronly I could find. I looked plumper, clothes fitted badly and had to be chosen with care - always v-necked and tailored to avoid looking pregnant as the boobs pushed the front out.

I turned 60 in the pandemic. I'd toyed with the idea of implant replacement and downsizing and had seen a couple of surgeons over the years to discuss it. One surgeon's solution of having them out and living with empty sacs then going back for more reconstruction was not appealing. Too much downtime. Another wanted me to have bigger implants arguing that my chest was too big to downsize. With a 30" back that seemed hard to understand. Then I saw some explant work done by Mr Mallucci on real self. These were the sort of boobs I liked. Small pert and normal. So I booked my consultation and he asked whether I'd thought of having NO implants. By this time I was looking ahead to my sixties, had separated from my partner and couldn't see myself hooking up with anyone sexually any time soon. And in any case I now see that small boobs are just as sexy and perhaps give a more intellectual image? The idea of getting rid of the foreign bodies I'd lived with for 20 years, being able to buy pretty little bras, not hump two boulders around in an iron bra and indulge in any clothes I wanted, was very appealing. And it would be a last stop on the boob surgery journey - something that will see me through to my eighties. I started noticing that women in adverts rarely have much boobs and how good it looked.

Mr M said he'd use some fat from my tummy and hips to try and even up the sizes of my boobs which I'd got used to referring to as my peach (now withered) and my melon. And Mr M agreed to fix up the tummy tuck that I'd had after the birth of my daughter in my forties. I had never really been happy with the scar and the ridge of fat along it. So I've done it. Day 3 and I've no regrets so far. The lightness of losing my boulders and being able to pull my shoulders back with ease is fantastic - even with the stitches and constipation!

So, here's my explant journey. I hope it helps other women - as so many have helped me in telling their real self stories.

This is me aged 60.

All went well. First reaction to losing so much bulk is relief. I remember talking about giraffes to one of the nurses! Post op is always a blur and the little things matter more than usual. Having a doc who is easy to talk to helps.