He butchered my boobs for being too big
Years of pain and a £5,000 fee – all for Samantha Sill, 50, from Worcester, to be left looking like this…
Standing in front of the mirror, I looked down at my naked bosoms.
They were huge and heavy.
A bundle of bras hung from a peg on the changing-room door.
I’d tried on dozens of the ugly things, all thick straps and wiring that dug into my skin, but none of them looked any good.
Not that I had any choice with my 44J breasts.
‘That’s it, I’m having the op,’ I told my husband Julian as I emerged teary-eyed from the changing room.
It was late 2014 – and, as Christmas approached, the only thing I wanted from Santa was breast-reduction surgery.
I’d been daydreaming about it for years.
An early bloomer, I’d had the biggest chest of all the girls in my class at school.
Sometimes they’d been my best asset, attracting admirers.
Other times, they’d been an embarrassment.
And they were only a 38C then.
But after two pregnancies with my daughters, they’d ballooned to an eye-watering 44J.
I’d hoped they’d reduce once I lost the baby weight.
But while the rest of me had shrunk, they’d stayed like two huge boulders.
By the time I’d hit my 40s, I was suffering agonising pains around my shoulders and a permanent ache in my neck and back.
Miserable, I’d gone to see my GP, but she’d said there was nothing they could do.
So now I took painkillers every morning and night just to deal with the agony.
Back home from shopping, about to pop another pill,
I felt the tears well.
That’s when I decided enough was enough, and started reading up on breast reductions online. It’s changed my life... No more pain... I’m a new woman... Having a breast reduction would mean going under the knife, but I realised I couldn’t go on like this.
Back to see the GP, I questioned whether the surgery would be available on the NHS.
‘I’m afraid not,’ the doctor replied. Despite my pain, the op was seen as cosmetic. After hours of research, visits to different clinics and conversations with various doctors, my mind was made up.
I’d read up on a plastic surgeon based in London who had a long career. He had years of experience, and really seemed to know what he was doing when it came to breast operations. Julian came with me on my first visit to meet the doctor in January 2015. He instantly put me
at ease. But the op had a price tag of £5,500.
I went home deep in thought, weighing up the pros and cons.
One of my daughters was going through university and I knew I’d have to take time off my estate-agent job for the surgery. Could we afford it?
‘If it’s going to ease your pain, it’s an investment, love,’ Julian soothed.
My daughters, 20 and 25, both agreed.
We paid the deposit and the surgery was booked for April 2015, to reduce my boobs from 44J back to the 38C I’d been more than two decades earlier.
Then I hit the shops, splashing out on the pretty, lacy lingerie I’d dreamt of wearing for years.
‘I can’t wait!’ I said, showing them to Julian.
Wheeled into surgery on the morning of 9 April 2015, I didn’t even feel nervous, just excited that my agony would soon be over.
A few hours later, I slowly