I was determined to get down that aisle no matter how many years it took me. By Frances Farman, 35
As I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I felt tears welling up.
I can’t believe it, I thought. Not again.
As a child, I’d suffered from severe eczema. It was so bad I was often mistaken for a burns victim.
Years of steroid tablets had helped it to fade. But now it was back with a vengeance.
And I knew why.
I also had a condition called Ehlers-Danlos syndrome, which affected the connective tissues, particularly in my legs and feet.
It meant I couldn’t walk properly and was often in pain.
And now my doctor had dropped a bombshell.
If I didn’t have surgery soon, I could end up in a wheelchair for life.
I was only 18, with plans to go to university and I didn’t want an operation, but the alternative was unthinkable, and the stress and worry had caused my eczema to flare up.
In the end, I agreed to go ahead with the operation after I finished my university course, but as I went on the waiting list something happened.
I met a man.
'I was scared of losing you'
His name was Oli and after a few dates, I was smitten. But I was too scared to tell him about my condition.
When I received a date for the operation, however, I knew I had to come clean.
So I sat him down.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’ he asked.
‘I was scared of losing you,’ I said.
‘You’re not going to,’ he replied. ‘I’m going to help you through this.’
A few weeks later, with Oli by my side, I went into hospital. Doctors recommended that I had one leg operated on at a time.
So first, one foot was broken in four places and a metal rod inserted to keep the foot in position as it healed.
I had to stay off my feet for 12 weeks, so I moved into my parents’ spare room.
It was frustrating and, even after the metal rod was removed, I had to teach myself how to walk again.
‘Why is this so difficult?’ I asked my physio.
‘Your brain is used to your foot being in the wrong position,’ she explained.
Eight months later, I had surgery on the other foot, leaving me bed-bound again.
With no social life for nearly a year, I spiralled into depression.
‘I don’t know why you’re still with me,’ I told Oli.
He tried his best to lift my spirits, but at first, nothing he did seemed to work.
Then one day all that changed.
Sitting by my bedside, he said: ‘When you’re better, I’ll marry you.’
I was stunned.
‘Are you proposing?’ I asked.
‘I guess so,’ he replied. ‘But I’ll do a much better job when you’re on your feet again.’
Suddenly, I had something to aim for, a reason to get better.
It took nearly four years, but I managed to get back on my feet again. Only, now I had a new hurdle to overcome.
I’d piled on seven stone.
I was determined to lose the weight, but my plans went on hold when my dad passed away.
Instead of dieting, I comfort-ate through the grief at home in Bournemouth, Dorset.
Then, one day, I was getting ready for a wedding when the zip of my size 18 dress burst right open. I knew then something had to change.
Next day, I went online and found The Slimming Clinic. Its doctors tailored programmes to suit an individual’s needs.
I went along to a meeting and over the next two years, I managed to drop seven stone.
When I could fit into a size 8 dress, I told Oli: ‘I feel ready to get married now.’
‘Finally,’ he teased. ‘I’ve only been waiting five years!’
A few weeks later, when I was out on my hen do, Oli surprised me by turning up and getting down on one knee.
‘I told you I’d do it better,’ he said, presenting me with a ring. ‘Will you marry me?’
‘Yes,’ I replied.
When the big day arrived, I looked in the mirror and this time my tears were of pure joy.
My skin was smooth, and I felt fabulous in my size 8 dress covered in pink diamanté.
And when I walked down the aisle, without pain or a wobble, I knew I was no longer an ugly duckling.
Finally, I was a swan.