Melissa’s mum bod made her life miserable. Then a big split gave her an even bigger idea…
Sitting in the garden and basking in the sun, my little girl piped up.
‘Mummy,’ Annabel, five, said. ‘Can we go to the park?’
Looking down at my rolls of flab, I sighed.
I dreaded summer coming round each year.
After my eldest, Lucca, was born when I was
20, my belly and boobs had changed for the worse.
Then I’d had Annabel, and after splitting from their dad, I’d met a new man.
We’d married and had two more little ones.
While I loved that my body had kept my babies safe, I hated how it looked.
It felt unrecognisable to me.
Over the years, I’d tried all sorts to try to lose the flab, from shakes to working out
constantly.
Still, at 29, I was a size 16.
But it was my loose skin that really bothered me.
I tucked my saggy tum into big Bridget Jones-style pants while my 34E spaniel ears would be hoicked up in a bra.
I’d cover up as much as possible, but in the heat, it was impossible.
Sweltering, I could only wear a bikini top and little shorts.
‘Just play in the garden,’ I told her.
There was no way anyone was seeing me with my belly hanging out.
When I went for drinks with friends, they’d be in teeny co-ords and body-con dresses.
I wish I could wear that, I thought.
Instead, I donned a frumpy shirt dress to cover up my baggy tum.
Shopping was out of the question too.
I couldn’t cope with changing room mirrors.
So, I’d live in oversized tees and big jumpers, two sizes too large.
‘I feel like I’m 50,’ I moaned to my husband.
My self-confidence had vanished.
I only became more depressed about it.
Then my grandad passed
away suddenly.
We’d always been close and I missed him dearly.
It made me think.
‘Life’s too short to feel the
way I do,’ I told my best mate Steph.
‘You’re right,’ she replied.
I wasn’t happy in our marriage, so I moved out and we got divorced.
We stayed civil and took turns to look after our kids.
But the way my body looked was still taking its toll on me, mentally.
I’d always put my kids first.
If they needed something, of course I’d go without.
That’s just what mums do.
But I realised, I have to do something for myself.
I started to look into surgery to remove my excess skin.
It was pricey, but I was investing in me.
Luckily, I had a pot of money left over from the divorce settlement.
I researched online for a clinic with great reviews.
Then a friend of mine went for surgery at Pall Mall, a clinic in Manchester.
She looked fabulous once it’d healed.
It was time to take the bull by the horns.
After a consultation with Dr Prabad at Pall Mall, I booked in for a breast enlargement with uplift, tummy tuck, liposuction, and muscle repair on my stomach.
It cost a whopping £15,000.
But I wanted to make sure I was in safe hands.
I only told a few people close to me what I had planned because I didn’t need unwanted opinions.
‘I’ll help out with the kids,’ Steph said. ‘And change your dressings.’
‘You’re an angel,’ I replied.
Luckily, she was a nurse, and so was my mum.
They’d take care of me while I rested up after the operation.
We were in Steph’s car when suddenly, she got an idea.
‘You’re single…’ she said, ‘and so’s my brother!’
‘What?’ I laughed.
‘I can’t believe I haven’t thought of this before,’ she gasped.
I shook my head, still giggling.
‘I’ve got my surgery in two weeks,’ I fretted.
‘So?’ she replied.
That was her all over.
I’d met her brother Will a few times, and he seemed a good sort.
But we didn’t know each other well.
Still, we went on a date and had a few drinks.
He was easy to chat to.
‘I’m having some bits done,’ I said about my surgery. ‘My belly and my boobs mainly.’
He looked me up and down.
‘Why?’ he said. ‘You really don’t need to.’
I laughed.
It was sweet but I wasn’t doing this for any man.
This was all for me.
We started dating and I felt self-conscious getting undressed in front of Will.
But he made it clear he fancied me rotten anyway.
Even with my boobs hanging down round my middle!
Soon, my big day rolled around.
‘I’m having an operation,’ I told the kids. ‘I’ll look a bit different, but Mummy will be fine.’
My two eldest stayed with my mum for the weekend while the two youngest were at their dad’s, so I’d be able to recover in peace.
Will came with me to Pall Mall.
My stomach was full of butterflies as I was wheeled into the operating theatre.
But I pictured my brand-new body as everything turned black.
When I woke up, I looked down.
There, under bandages, were my new perky 34G boobs.
‘Blimey,’ I said.
They were mountains compared to what I was used to!
And while I couldn’t see my flat tum, I could certainly feel it.
Thrilled but battered and bruised, I was still on morphine.
Will was by my side as I recovered.
‘Thank you for being here,’ I said.
‘Of course, I want to be here,’ he replied.
After a couple of days, I was sent home.
Mum and Steph helped to change my dressings.
But even with my bandages on, I couldn’t stop looking in the mirror.
My new tum was my pride and joy.
‘You look incredible,’ Steph said.
A week later, my drains were removed from my chest.
Thankfully with lots of help from Steph and Mum, after another week I was on the mend.
My bandages were off and, like magic, I was a whole new woman!
And my confidence was through the roof.
‘Over my dead body am I wearing a shirt dress,’ I muttered.
I scrolled online and bought brand-new outfits to accentuate my size 14 curves.
When I pulled on a body-con dress with a huge cut-out over the midriff, I gasped.
‘This looks amazing,’ I said.
Will took me out to a bar to celebrate, six weeks after my surgery.
I felt spectacular.
And when I nipped to the ladies, even people I didn’t know were full of lovely comments.
‘I’d kill for your figure,’ one girl said.
‘I love that dress on you,’ another smiled.
I didn’t care what blokes thought.
But all those gorgeous girls fawning over my figure was the cherry on top of the cake!
Even Lucca, 11, ever the joker, accidentally complimented me.
‘You look like a sand timer,’ he smirked.
‘Oh, like an hourglass you mean?’ I smiled. ‘I’ll take it!’
‘Er, no,’ he replied, confused.
Seven months on from surgery, the kids are reaping the rewards of my new positive outlook.
I’m full of beans, taking them on day trips and even swimming.
We’d never gone to the pool together before!
And on the school run, I’ll be in little co-ords, proudly showing my shape.
With my new-found confidence, it’s Christmas every day for Will in the bedroom now too.
This summer, I’ll be proudly wearing bikinis by the pool.
We need to ditch the stigma around ‘mummy makeovers’.
It’s OK to want to get your groove back after having children.
I feel sexy and empowered – you can’t put a price on that!
Melissa Jolly, 32, Manchester