Hey y'all... I know its been some time since I updated this shit. Do people even read anymore? I sure hope so because this the only way y'all gonna get this whole story. Im kidding, but not really. because why tf y'all don't be reading? Im talking to US when I say "YALL" because why haven't I read a book in months? what is wrong with me... imma blame the pandemic and theres that... Thanks covid smh..
Any who, I'm not sure if you guys are aware of the bullshit I went through when I got surgery back in June 2020. But I'm finna blast tf outta my doctor (without blasting his name because I'm not really sure if I can do that) but I feel like sharing my story is necessary, especially since BBLs are so big nowadays, a lot of women aren't aware of the negative things that come with surgery. I mean we be seeing and reading things, but its different when its someone you may know (whether its in real life, or on social media)... Real life shit that isn't necessarily happening to YOU hits a lil different when you can put a face to the story.. so heres mine....
I will be posting a lot of pictures!! Just to show you the change of events. Pictures of my scar, so if you have a weak stomach... this might not be the blog post for you.... skim through, or just get a bag to keep beside you, because babyyyyy these pictures are not for the weak... BUT you literally have to see the pics to get the full picture. Im gonna try my hardest not to forget anything, but if you know me you know I have long term and short term memory loss, call me DORY if you will.... but yeah, imma tell the story as good as I can remember.. if yall have any questions you can ask below, or of course DM me and I can answer any question you need answered. Im honestly here to help others realize that even though cosmetic surgery can really help us with our confidence, theres time where it can really break your confidence, pockets and even put you in a state of depression... I hope my story can help one of you just do the research thats needed before you go under the knife, because even though I DID do my research, I could have done more. And maybe if I wasn't so thirsty to get my body done, if I woulda took my time and just waited... maybe I wouldn't have been in that position... or maybe it was gonna happen regardless, idk we'll never really know. But heres my story, I'm finna start this shit for real this time lol
I went to miami the day before my surgery... My surgery was June 2, 2020.. But of course you have to meet with your surgeon, and make sure everything is good with your lab work.. When I spoke to him I basically told him the look I was going for... NATURAL... take the fat out of stomach, add to my hips was the most important part.. AND DONT YOU DARE USE ALL THAT DAMN FAT CUS ITS ALOT.. I literally said "just fill in my hip dips, and fill in the top of my ass because my butt is kinda flat at the top.. BUT DO NOT USE ALL MY FAT" he said 'whats the point of a bbl if you're not gonna use all your fat?" BITCH WHAT ?????????????????????????????/ the point of a bbl is to make whoever is getting the damn surgery comfortable in their own skin, thats the fucking point you peon... I also wanted lipo in my chin and arms, because aint no way my arms are looking like I make the best potato salad, aint no way... Like I'm too young for these type of arms, get them tf out.. Tomorrow was the day, and I was ready to go to sleep and get this shit over with
June 2nd comes around, and its my time to shine. I do not remember what time my surgery was, again blaming my memory loss on most this shit. but anyway, I just remember getting to the office just ready to get this shit over with... fast forward to me having the little surgery nightgown on, and I'm on the surgery table. I specifically asked if my surgeon could play some bob Marley before I was put under because his music puts me in a great mood, and at that point my anxiety was through the roof. I immediately started mediating and praying, just to mentally prepare myself for what I was putting my body through. I put myself so deep into prayer and mediation that the nurses and the doctor thought I had passed out because I wasn't responding to them. They started yelling and shaking me, I opened my eyes like "THE FUCK YALL WANT FROM ME?" They looked like they saw a ghost because they honestly believe that I passed out on the table before they even put me under. I was like oh nah stink, I'm becoming one with the universe so this shit can go as smooth as possible, so please leave me tf alone and let me vibe out.. After I explained that to them, all I remember is waking up being SOOOOOO cold... I was freezing.
I was staying at a recovery home for the first 5 days after my surgery just because I didn't know what to expect, so their job was to pick me up after my surgery and to get my prescription filled. YALL TELL ME WHY THESE PEOPLE WERE LATE PICKING ME UP AFTER I GOT OFF THE TABLE!!!!! I don't remember exactly how long I waited but it felt forever. So I'm waiting, cold as ever..... AND FUCKING PISSED. All I remember is when I finally got in the back of the truck, I had the worst attitude, I mean who wouldn't? I was sitting around looking like a cold lost puppy with blood all over me. Like bitch stop hitting all these bumps, slow your ass down but also hurry up and get me to the house so I can take drugs because I AM IN PAIN. I literally got into with the driver, I'm laying in the back on my stomach and she had the nerve to tell me to stop cussing. BITCH ILL GET OUT, IM NOT GONNA STOP NOTHING. Now you and I know I was not walking anywhere, but I was just in so much pain and felt like I wasn't being treated right, and in pain or not, imma speak tf up... even if my life is literally in your hands..
BUT WAIT.... theres more bullshit. I get to the recovery house and my prescription hadn't been filled yet........... yes.... you heard that right................ These people had not picked up my drugs yet, and now the anesthesia had officially worn off.. I literally feel EVERYTHING!!!!! like everything. When bitches say BBL's feel like you've been hit by a train, I kid you not..... Them bitcbes do not be lying... I was in so much pain that I literally had to throw up. I was trying to throw up, but couldn't. I was in so much pain that I couldn't even cry. I didn't even know that was possible. Like tears usually equals pain, but bitch the pain was so unbearably that I couldn't even cry. But one thing about me, imma always have something up my sleeve. I brought some "just incase" drugs, because YOU NEVER KNOW! And thank god I think like that, because I would have been in pain for the whole night if I didn't. I popped a Perc and went to sleep.
June 3rd, I woke up, and still felt like I've been jumped by Harambes cousins, but I FELT ALOT BETTER! and not to mention they were able to get my prescription, so I had drugs to ease the pain ( and y'all when I say drugs I'm not talking about crack cocaine, I'm talking about the script from my surgeon.. I don't want anyone spreading rumors saying I do crack on my spare time).. The next two days were a BREEZE, I'm not gonna lie. I didn't eat at all, just a little bit of fruit because I didn't really have an appetite, but that was probably the drugs fault. But I was drinking gallons of water, and taking walks in the backyard because being active after surgery is important! You gotta move around, and I sure was. I was getting my daily massages, and honestly at this point I felt like I could go home lol. I saw the pain a lot of the other girls in the recovery house were in, they needed help going to the bathroom and showering,, and I literally did all that stuff on my own. im not sure if I have a high pain tolerance or what, but when I tell you I WAS GOOD, I WAS GOOD!
The last couple nights at the recovery home is when I knew something wasn't right with me. Im gonna say by the June 5th (3 days post op) I knew something was up. Now ladies, well hell ANYONE you know your body. You've had this same body your whole life. You know when you're about to get a cold, you can literally feel something is up. I knew something was going on in my body, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I started having really bad hot flashes, especially at night time. So normal me would have started googling to figure out what was wrong with me, but I just knew WEBMD was gonna tell me I have terminal brain cancer or some shit, and I wasn't in the position to stress myself out even more. So after asking a lot of the people at the recovery home, they told me that it was normal after having surgery. So I took it at that, it was normal and this is all new. I just transferred fat from one area to another, and my body is tf confused. So my answer to fixing all my sleeping problems was getting a fan to keep on while I was sweating up a storm at night time. One of my dearest friends knew the pain I was going through and brought me not ONE, but TWO fans to help with my sleeping issues. HEY PARGO, such a sweet angel.. That helped so much, but I had no idea that those fans weren't gonna fix the problem.. It sure was worth a try tho. Now anyone thats had a BBL knows you have to sleep on your stomach for a while after your surgery.. But another issue that I had was that one side of my hip was hurting entirely too much to do that. So I would find my self falling asleep on my stomach, but waking up on my right side. Again, Im assuiming this is because I literally just put foreign (not really foreign but still foreign) fat into my hip. If I'm a stubborn bastard, then why isn't my hip allowed to act the same way? Pst, little did I know that was just the beginning....
By June 7th (5 days post opp), I left the recovery home and ended up getting an air bnb with my homegirl who said she would come take are of me while I stayed in miami. I originally planned to stay in miami for as long as I needed to, because last thing I wanted to do was to travel looking like I just came straight off the table. I continued taking my daily anti biotics that were prescribed by my doctor, and taking pain medicine that was also prescribed. I had my own masseuse pull up to me everyday, so I could do my daily massages at the air bnb. Again, I felt FINE but I still knew something was up because of the pain in my left hip. Now I'm a thug, and I know I just spoke on how bad the pain was after surgery, but this pain was ALL DAY PAIN. If I didn't pop a perc, I literally couldnt move around because of the pain. SIDENOTE AGAIN, I HATE PERCS, that is not my drug of choice. Not saying I have a drug of choice, but if I did, it would not be a damn Percocet. But they definitely saved my life during this process, because I wouldn't be able to get out of bed if it wasn't for them. Try to hand me a perc now and imma throw it back in your faee, Funny story real quick, my mother came in town and I wanted to take her to the stripclub, I was in ALOT of pain because my drunk ass was wrestling the night before, and I really think I dislocated shoulder.. Long story short, I took my mother to the strip club and was throwing up in the bathroom the whole night because me and Percs don't mix lol.... but let me get back to the story at hand..
By the 9th I couldn't deal with the pain and now my hip has a visible bump on it.. I was due to see my surgeon for a post op visit. But no one was responding to me, not the doctor, not my coordinator. No one was. I knew something was wrong with my hip and someone was gonna fix this shit one way or another. I went to the office, saw this bitch ass nigga of a surgeon, he's gonna look at it for about 2 seconds, touch it once and say "everything looks normal".. He told me that it could possibly have liquid in it, but if he was to pop it theres a good chance that theres nothing there. "When I worked in New York I saw this a lot, and trust me it was always nothing.. You're fine"... BET BITCH.... I left feeling kind of uneasy, but honestly what could I do? He's a surgeon and this is his job, if the man said this is normal... Then imma thug it out, because at the end of the day, I did this to myself.. No one put a gun to my head to get this banging ass body, so I had to take it on the chin and just deal with the pain..
That night was BAD... The worst night actually. I was waking up every 5 mins to turn the fan on because I was too hot,,, 5 minutes later I would turn it back off beause I was too fucking cold.. At this point this was an every night thing, but I was so restless and made up my mind that I shouldn't have done this surgery. Because either my body was rejecting the fat, or my body was just very angry that I would even do this dumb shit.
June 11th, I wake up and the cold sweats and heat flashes were still going on. Now for the past couple days that was only an issue at night, but now its the day time and I'm going from hot to cold to hot to cold... My massage lady comes, of course I get on the bed to get a massage, but at this point IM FREEZING COLD, so i ask if she can put the heat up and just put a cover over me. She literally felt my back and said "you said you're cold?" and I responded GIRL YES IM FREEZING, at that point I'm shivering because of how cold I was... She then said she couldnt give me a massages because my body was TOO HOT, and the fact that I was saying I was freezing only meant that I most definitely have a fever. So basically I'm fucked at this point. I go and buy a thermometer, and bitch my temp was a 104.3.. OH HELL TF NO. So now I'm panicking. My homegirls friend is a nurse so we call her, and I show her my hip. She tells me that I have cellulitis, which is a serious bacterial skin infection. I told her how my temperature was 94 yesterday and now its 104.. She basically told me I have to get to the hospital as soon as possible because the cellulitis could and will spread, and it'll cause even more problems for me.
NOW IDK ABOUT YALL, but I hate the hospital. I hate emergency rooms. I hate all of that. I just feel like they're not meant for black people, there I said it. They usually brush us to the side, especially if were saying were in unbearable pain. BUT, like I've been saying I knew something was wrong.... So I brought my ass to the hospital, and that basically saved my life. I got to the emergency room, got my covid test and then they started taking my blood and all that good stuff. I had to do ct scan, which I hate cus I get the worst anxiety. I was in so much pain, just laying there alone and just sad. Not knowing whats going on, just really waiting for someone to tell me what was wrong with me. Eventually the doctor came in and he commends me on how I've been handling the pain, because he's never seen an infection grow this quick and he knows that I've had to be in pain for days... This whole time I'm thinking this is all apart of the process of a BBL, and no bitch.. my insides been screaming for help and I'm over here skipping around thinking shit is sweet.. He then told me that I needed to stay in the hospital a couple more days so they could keep track of the cellulitis because it was just getting bigger and bigger..... but LET ME REMIND YALL, I'm in miami STILL!! In case y'all forget, so at this point I'm like HELL NO. Because if it keep getting worse and doesn't heal itself I'm gonna have to get surgery WHILE IN MIAMI... again, another hell no. so I politely told the doctor that I had to leave. I told him that I would book the first fight to Atlanta, and I would go straight to the hospital once I'm home. I was in the hospital from 9pm til 4am, and even though they told me not to leave I HAD TO!
June 12th, I got on the first flight to Atlanta, And even though I know I told the doctor I was gonna go straight to the hospital, I been away from home for over a week and I needed to stop and get a couple things so I would be comfortable when I got back home. So I stopped at target, just picking up a fan, some big pillows... just things I felt was necessities for my recovery process. At this point I wasn't in a lot of pain because of the drugs of course, and I had my faja on. If you don't know what a faja is, just think of it as a waist trainer for your whole body.. Well from your stomach to above your knees, so basically a wrestling outfit for bad bitches lol. Its BEYOND tight and just keeps everything in place. So any pain my hip had going on, wasn't being felt because of how damn tight this faja was... I hurry home, and I told myself "Ok Im gonna clean the house up, shower, pack a lil spenndanight back and head to the hospital"... So thats exactly what I started to do. Until I took my faja off and this damn bump had opened... So now I'm like???????? Let me get my ass to the hospital because I know this can't be ok.. So I get my ass to the hospital, and only the lord knows the pain mentally and physically I would go through while being there.
June 13th, I woke up, well kinda because I never really slept through the night but when the rest of the hospital woke up it was time for my surgery, and BITCH WAS I READY.. I dont really remember much, but I remember before I could got my surgery they had to take blood and hook me up to an IV, but they could not find a vein... So they poked me about 11 times before they could find one.. That was only the first time this will happen, my vein were not with the shits, and neither was I... I woke up, and I just know whatever drug they gave me, they need to sell on the streets because ?????? I don't remember exactly what I was saying but I know it was all gibberish.. BUT IM ALIVE!!! The surgeon came and talked to me, and just told me I had a successful surgery, and he was able to remove the infection... Ok guys I'm kinda leaving out a big part... I WAS AN EMOTIONAL MESS. LIKE A MESS. I was crying a lot, hyperventilating, snots running down my face. I have really bad anxiety and there were points during my visit where I literally couldn't breathe.. And the nurses/doctors were very good with just making sure I was OK.. Well theres that, I spilled the beans. I be crying n shit, don't tell no one either lol
Now I'm not gonna cap y'all down..The rest of my stay was kind of a blur.. It consistented of me crying, me having anxiety attacks, me not eating, me cussing out the nurses for taking my blood every fucking 8 mins.. I was a mess. But the doctor informed me that I need to wear a machine that would help with the blood flow and also help with the healing so I wouldnt have a huge hole in my hip. But it turned into a waiting game in finding one of them machines (I wish I knew the name but I just called it a shit bag because thats what it looked like...) The day after my surgery they took the stuffing out of my hole and BOY OH BOY... again, if you have a weak stomach... click tf away, cus when I say this is a hole... ITS A WHOLE HOLE.....
The last couple days were the worst on my mental.. Ive been in the same dark ass hospital room, just sad and depressed. And even though they kept me drugged up when I felt any pain, that didn't fix how fucked up my mind was. I can laugh and joke about it now because I survived and I'm happy and healthy now, but that was a very low point in my life.. I was able to leave the hospital on the 19th after they were able to find me a lil shit bag machine to go home with... The only thing now is that I was gonna have to keep that on me for the next 6 months (just a prediction they had, they assumed it was gonna take a while for my hole to close....
Im finally home and even though this blog post is about my surgery, my mental was all types of fucked up and I feel like thats important to talk about, I felt like I was gonna have a hole in my hip and thats all because I couldn't just accept my body for what it was... Now the shit bag was a pain in the ass, I couldn't really wear pants because there was a long cord connected to it.. So I wore dresses the whole time I had it.. I had to go to the hospital twice a week for them to clean my wound and just make sure everything was moving smoothly..that too was a pain in the fucking ass but it was something I had to do...
Now if you remember earlier I said they thought that I would have to keep my shit bag on for 6 months. But with prayer, good genes and sea moss, I was able to get it taken off after 15 days.. YES YOU READ THAT RIGHT, 15 days.. 15 very long days, but bitch I was free!! I went to see the same lady to clean my wound, and she would always say how I'm healing amazingly, but the last time I went, she was so confused... She literally said "Girl your hole is gone...." I said bitch you lying.... I looked down, and I swear to god the hole was barely there. So I guess you could say I heal like wolverine... But it was no longer a hole, and I no longer needed to visit the hospital anymore.. Which I loved.
The last day when I walked out shit bag free, one of the ladies that would bring the lunches to people recognized me.. And she said "Aint no way you're still here!!" I said GIRLLLLL you will not be seeing me again, I am out of here.. I apologized to her, like I did to all the nurses because even though I was under a lot of pressure and in a lot of pain, I just know when spanks mental illness is acting up, ITS GONNA ACT UP AND EVERYONE IS GONNA KNOW... The lady responds and said "You don't need to apologize, I enjoyed your energy.. its contagious.." I told her I KNOW YOU FUCKING LYING BECAUSE I WAS GOING THROUGH IT, and she told me that even if I thought I wasn't being nice to everyone, I was... And she wouldn't forget me, and especially wouldn't forgot how I didn't eat anything but fruit the whole time I was in the hospital lol.
But theres that... My surgery story in a very long blog post. This was the best way I knew to tell everyone without having to individually tell everyone. I hope someone reads this and can relate and understands thats they're not alone... Or even just help someone who's thinking about getting surgery. Its not always just glitz and big booties. Real shit can happen, no matter how cautious you are.. Im not trying to scare anyone away from getting a BBL, because that was one of the best decisions Ive made in my life... I just want more women to know its possible for some fuck shit to happen. Cus trust me, I wouldn't have thought in a million years I would have to deal with bullshit like that. Not to mention me owning the hospital 100k but I guess that's another blog post, cus honestly they can get it back in blood or holla at my surgeon... I hope y'all just don't read the first and last paragraph, cus that'll be rude.. But if you do that, just know I put the winning lottery numbers somewhere in the mix, so go back and read and maybe you'll hit the lotto.. bye bitches
