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nipple and straight underneath, instead of the scars I had from my other ops, which had just been underneath the breasts. But as I don’t do topless modelling any more, the scars weren’t really an issue for me. I was just relieved that he wasn’t going to take the nipple off, which I had thought they did during the op and which gave even me, with all my experience of surgery, a bit of a weird feeling. I mean, it grossed me out!
    I had only planned to get my boobs redone but as Garth is such a good plastic surgeon, me being me, I thought I would ask him if there was anything else he could do to improve my appearance. So as I stood in front of him in my underwear, I said, ‘If you could change anything about me, what would it be?’ And he replied, ‘Your nose.’ Well, I had never had a problem with my nose. I thought it was quite distinctive – I think the expression is that I had a Roman nose. In fact, the surgeon who did my first-ever boob job had also said that he could improve my nose, but I had never been bothered about it before. But then I thought, ‘If I can make it perfect, why not?’ And I’ll be under the anaesthetic anyway, so it’s like killing two birds with one stone. It wasn’t a major procedure, he didn’t have to break my nose or anything, just shave a bit of bone from the arch – making my distinctive nose more pretty and feminine, a cute ski-jump nose.
    I had also decided to get the veneers redone on my teeth. I’d had the existing ones for years and they were starting to wobble a bit. I needed to be in LA for eight days to get my teeth done as that’s how long it takes, as it involves several trips to the dentist, and I thought that would give me more than enough time to have the boob and nose job too, recover, and do a bit of shopping. I couldn’t wait to be back home and showing off my new look!
    Pete came with me to the hospital as I went into surgery. He really didn’t like me having surgery – a feeling that was to intensify six months later – but he did understand in this instance that my boobs needed redoing. I was the one being light-hearted and joking, and he was the one being more serious and intense, telling me how much he loved me. Of course, I told him I loved him too, but I was also excited about finally having the op, knowing that afterwards I would have my new boobs. And, yes, I know that this is going to sound weird but I was actually looking forward to having an anaesthetic. I loved having them . . . or at least back then I did. I’ve different feelings entirely now after an experience in August 2008, but that comes later.
    People used to ask me why I liked anaesthetics, as if there was some deeper psychological meaning behind my attitude to them. Was it because I couldn’t handle reality? That it was the only time I could let my guard down and be fully myself, able to show vulnerability? Or was it just that I liked the sensation. Yep, it’s the last one. I loved being put to sleep, loved the dreamy sensation of going under. Who knows why? I certainly don’t like the experience of being in hospital, I just associate hospitals with pain and want to get out and back to normal as soon as possible.
    I wasn’t feeling so jokey when I came round six hours after the op. I felt terrible. My nose was really uncomfortable in the cast. It was itching like crazy and I couldn’t breathe out of it as it was packed with gauze. I had a gross taste of flesh and blood in my mouth that made me want to retch. As for my boobs, they were extremely sore but I can deal with the pain if the result is going to be good. But when I looked down at them, I was really shocked. ‘Oh my God!’ I said to Pete. ‘Look at the massive gap between them!’ Straight away I was not happy and knew I would have to get them done again. I know people will think I was exaggerating, but I so wasn’t! Fake boobs don’t usually fall to the sides when you lie down, like natural ones do. But these fake