The Plastic Surgery I Almost Got
Or, Thank God I'm Out of My Twenties
About a year after graduating from college I got an idea into my head that I could not shake loose: I needed liposuction. Like many young women in America I was deeply insecure about my body, and at 23 I had amassed enough of a savings account to make plastic surgery a real option.
I started researching. I didn’t know anyone who had undergone cosmetic surgery (or at least no one who had come clean about it), and in 2009 the internet was not yet flooded with influencers bragging about their nips and tucks and trading social posts for free procedures. That is to say, I was flying blind.
My Googling landed me at the office of a “minimal down-time, guaranteed results” plastic surgeon in Chicago’s Humboldt Park neighborhood. I walked in for my consultation and was greeted by a very sweet and bubbly nurse1 who asked me all about myself, my body insecurities, and what I was hoping to achieve with the procedure. It felt really nice to speak so candidly and be heard without judgment.
By the time our consultation was over I was fully convinced that liposuction was the answer to all of my problems. I was going to concentrate on my stomach and arms, my “problem areas”, and because of the new and improved procedure I’d have barely any down time at all - I’d probably miss just a few days from work. I was so excited that I paid for the full procedure — which was several thousand dollars — upfront. I booked the appointment for my surgery and left the office feeling ecstatic…which lasted for all of about two hours. I went to bed feeling nervous — what had I just done? — and woke up feeling panicked.
