In March, I woke up in a hospital bed, groggy and scared, with bandages around my chest. I’d been here nearly 10 years ago, but this time was different. This time, my heart wasn’t racing, and it didn’t feel as though an elephant was sitting on top of me, crushing my chest. This time, there was relief.
After 10 years of auto-immune illnesses and life-changing symptoms, I was facing the possibility of returning to a normal life. Without my breast implants, I could be me again.
My experience of breast implant illness.
I was self-conscious about my body from an early age. I had a sporty figure — small, no curves, flat-chested — and I remember feeling bullied at school. I was so insecure, constantly thinking, ‘why does my stomach stick out further than my boobs?’
By the time I reached my early 20s, breast implants seemed like the obvious solution. I could buy the womanly shape I longed for, and surely the confidence would follow.
I researched heavily, and spent hours online looking at photos and reading testimonials. I spoke to friends, and even though one urged me to hold off and keep investigating, my mind was made up.
I chose a surgeon on recommendation. He guided me through the process, showed me the implant options — I went for silicone with a textured coating — and he talked me through the risks.
And so in March, 2009, at the age of 25, I went under the knife.
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