Ta-ra tree trunks!

My porky pins were a really weighty issue

Log legs!’ came a childish snigger at school. I fought back tears. ‘We come in all shapes and sizes,’ my mum Carol comforted me later.

I knew Mum was right, but it seemed so unfair.

Skinny as a kid, when I hit puberty, my legs expanded.

By 14, I’d a tiny waist but huge, heavy thighs and calves.

So I hardly ever wore dresses, terrified anyone would see my tree trunks.

Desperate, I tried everything to slim them down. Cut out junk food, started going swimming, power walking, circuit training…

But absolutely nothing made a dent in my porky pins.

Growing up, my legs became very painful. Every day felt like I’d run a marathon.

So, in my late teens, I saw my GP, who prescribed water tablets, believing it was water retention.

‘Try to lose weight, too,’ he said.

Mortified, I didn’t return when the tablets made no difference.

‘I’ve got “fat legs syndrome”,’ I joked to Mum.

Still, it didn’t stop me enjoying life. At 19, I met my now hubby, Sam. He didn’t mind my pear-shaped bod, and we had our sons, Jac, now 21, and Harry, 17.

During both pregnancies, my legs ballooned to a size-20.

After, I shrank back to a size-10 in tops, but remained a size-18 in bottoms. Only 10st, it made no sense. On holidays, I’d wear a full sarong until I got in the pool. In winter, I couldn’t zip up boots over my calves, even wellies didn’t fit!

Sam, now 45, was always supportive.

‘I love you, legs and all!’ he smiled.

Then, busy doing chores one day in 2015, This Morning was on in the background.

My ears pricked up when a woman talked about her legs and a condition called lipoedema.

I stared at the lady’s large, lumpy legs...exactly like mine! ‘It’s often triggered by a

change in hormones such as during puberty, pregnancy and menopause,’ she said.

I wasn’t alone!

Eyes opened, I found a lipoedema support group on Facebook and posted photos. ‘Do I have this?’ I wrote. Comments confirmed my suspicions, and offered advice. At last, I’d an answer. Referred for tests...soon after, I was officially diagnosed.

Although there’s no cure, it’s possible to have liposuction to remove the fat.

‘But the NHS rarely fund it,’ I was warned.

Then, as months ticked by, I read success stories online of people who’d paid to go private.

Seeing the transformations, it got me thinking.

I knew I’d be laid up for six weeks after, but...

I’d be ‘normal’.

However, Sam was worried. ‘The risks aren’t worth it,’ he insisted. But, just 42, I longed to be able to wear dresses regularly… As suspected, the NHS wouldn’t pay £9,000 for the op to drain fat from my calves. ‘For me, it would be worth it,’ I told Sam, convincing him. My dad Graeme, 61, kindly gave me £1,000, I sold some shares I had from work, and I took out a loan for the rest. Last June, I spoke to a plastic surgeon at Spire Parkway Hospital, in Birmingham. And on 30 November,

I was a size-10 in tops, but a size-18 in bottoms!

Sam was at my side as I was wheeled to theatre.

Coming round four hours on, my legs felt very bruised, but the difference was clear – there was shape to my ankles!

‘We drained eight litres of fat,’ I was told. 14 pints!

Mum looked after me, helping me bathe and dress.

And, as the swelling went down, my legs got slimmer! ‘You look stunning,’ Sam said. Most of all, he loved how confident I was.

Weeks on, Mum and I went shopping, where I scooped up all the dresses I could carry.

I started welling up at the counter. The moment I’d longed for all my life!

Even more exciting, when walking my dogs on the beach, I could now fit into wellies!

Now, I’m saving up £3,700 for liposuction on my knees. It’s worth every penny. In May, Sam and I went to Ibiza. Packing a bikini, I dared to bare for the first time ever.

No more logs, I love my legs!