Laser lipolysis left me black and blue - but my thighs have never looked better
By
Leah Hardy
UPDATED:
15:14 GMT, 25 January 2010
They say that after a certain age you have to choose between your
face and your bottom. Diet with sufficient savagery to tame your
spreading rear, and your face ends up gaunt and old.
Only, as I've discovered, that doesn't have to be true. You can
have thinner thighs and a smaller bottom without dieting or exercise -
and without getting a haggard face.
The secret? Liposculpture, a new, super-safe form of laser liposuction that can really change your body, almost instantly.
Before (left) and after (right): Leah
Hardy tackled her saddlebags - the fat at the top of her thighs - with
Advanced Laser Lipolysis
I've never liked my shape. I'm reasonably tall - 5ft 8in - and as a
size 12, not fat, but I longed for thinner thighs and leaner hips.
I
thought I was a typical British pear, a full size bigger around my
bottom half than my top. But according to Trinny and Susannah, I'm
really a 'vase' shape, meaning the saddlebag area at the tops of my
thighs is wider than my hips.
It's a shape that means pencil
skirts are out of the question and one that made me feel lumpy in slinky
dresses and carrot-legged in skinny jeans.
I could diet, but
frankly, it's hard enough work staying the size I am. Exercise? I hate
it. Running is depressing, dangerous after dark and boring as hell.
Classes
and gym memberships are just as miserable, and expensive and time
consuming. Also, I've spent serious money on gym memberships and
personal trainers over the years with remarkably little effect.
As I headed into my 40s, I realised the only way I could reshape
my body was with lipo. But I also know that traditional liposuction is
probably the most dangerous cosmetic surgery operation out there, mostly
because of being under general anaesthetic for hours. With two young
children, I simply couldn't justify even a tiny risk of dying for the
sake of thinner thighs.
But then I learned about surgeon Dr Alan Kingdon. Using local
anaesthetic and lasers to liquefy fat, he could resculpt my rear without
putting me under - and he was reputed to be one of the very best in the
business, with more than 20 years of experience in lipo. I made an
appointment to see him at his clinic in West London.
On meeting Dr Kingdon, I immediately felt safe and reassured. He
was one of the first surgeons to introduce lipo to the UK. Later, he
ditched the general anaesthetic and introduced 'tumescent liposuction',
in which a large volume of diluted anaesthetic plus adrenaline is
injected into the fatty tissue so the fat can be removed painlessly.
Without the risks of open wounds and general anaesthetic, the
procedure became - so he claims - '100 per cent safe' and made even
more effective by adding the power of lasers.
A few years ago, Smart Lipo was big news. Lasers ruptured fat
cells and liquefied the fat which was then supposed to be gradually
metabolised in the body. Trouble was, all too often it did not work.
So instead of leaving the liquidised fat in the body, Dr Kingdon
realised that it would be better to suck it all out. The new technique
is called Advanced Laser Lipolysis.
But was it right for me? Dr Kingdon does an extensive medical
check, asks me dozens of health-related questions, and I have blood
taken to ensure I'm healthy.
WHO KNEW?
A staggering 87 per cent of women hate their thighs
This type of lipo isn't for obese people, but for
those with stubborn areas of fat on saddlebags, tummies, hips or bingo
wings that just won't go. He then asks me to strip to my knickers, so
he can have a look at my rear and thighs.
Then, to my horror, he takes some photos and flashes them up
on a computer screen in his consulting room. I point out he really
should offer middle-aged patients like me anaesthetic before showing
them their brightly lit back view.
Despite my strong instinct to put my hands over my eyes, he
insists I look at the images and points out that what I thought was the
problem - fat at the side of my thighs - is actually caused by fat at
the back. My saddlebags are merely, sadly, the overspill.
It's hugely depressing, but the upside is that Dr Kingdon says he
can do something about it. Because the fat is localised, and I'm not
hugely overweight, he is confident he can make a real difference. I
book in.
Because I don't need a general anaesthetic or even heavy sedation,
the procedure will be done at a specialist beauty clinic licensed for
surgical procedures which are done under sterile conditions, not a
hospital, and should take only a few hours.
On the day, I feel nervous but not frightened. I'm asked to
strip down to a paper G-string and put on a surgical gown. I lie down
on a well-padded couch.
To start, Dr Kingdon gives me injections of local anaesthetic
before making a tiny incision a couple of millimetres long and starts
to pour a mixture of saline, anaesthetic and adrenaline into my lower
body. The adrenaline closes off local blood vessels, so there is very
little bleeding and it's easier to get at the fat.
The injections hurt a bit, as does introducing the tubes to
irrigate my body with saline, but I'm soon numb. As Dr Kingdon starts
to liquefy my fat with the laser, it's hard to work out exactly where
the sensation of pressure is coming from.
Surgery lite: The procedure was done at a
specialist beauty clinic under sterile conditions, not a hospital, and
only took a few hours
Occasionally, the probe strays into an unanaesthetised area and the
sudden sensation makes me leap like a fish. Dr Kingdon has his sleeves
rolled up and is clearly working hard, pumping the laser probe and then
removing the yellow fat which glugs down clear plastic tubes into
plastic bags. I start by chatting but, as time passes, I become tired,
sometimes falling asleep.
By the end, two-and-a half-hours later, I am shaking and
shivering. I'm lying in a pool of cold saline and feel cold and
exhausted. And then, finally, it's all over. There is nearly
one-and-a-half litres of pure, liquid, banana-yellow fat in two plastic
bags - about the most that could be removed using this technique.
I'm warned I won't have lost any weight. All that fat weighs only
around 2lb, and water is much heavier than fat, so the saline still in
me will weigh
more.
Dr Kingdon's nurse then starts squeezing fluid out of my
thighs from the tiny incision he has made. The saline squirts out like
water out of a whale's blowhole.
I'm covered with thick surgical dressings and plasters, and I'm
inelegantly shoehorned into a giant elastic pair of leggings to help
prevent swelling. Then I stagger into a pair of dark coloured loose
trousers - I can now see why they are specified - and drink hot sweet
tea, which has a remarkably restorative effect.
Suddenly, I burst out laughing. I am swelling up, and in my awful
flesh-coloured elastic leggings and dressings I look as if I am wearing
a Little Britain-style fatsuit. It seems so ironic that, after all I've
gone through, I'm fatter than I was at the beginning.
The clinic calls me a taxi, in which I promptly fall asleep.
At home, I can't wait to go to bed. My husband is on story duty
with the children as I take the first of the five days' worth of
antibiotics and a painkiller and fall asleep. I wake in the small hours
in a pool of liquid that they call 'seepage'.
The next day - Friday - I wake feeling OK, but very tired. I sleep
late, but realise I have volunteered to go into the children's school to
help with 'French Day'. I find my loosest, lightest, dark-linen Jigsaw
trousers.
Jeans are out of the question, not just because I can't fit into
them, but because the pressure of the fabric on my tender flesh is
painful.
I manage the afternoon, teaching the children a few words of
French - and to my surprise sitting and crouching on the floor with the
little ones. I'm in no real pain.
'Two days later I can already see I'm a different shape - my saddlebags have pretty
much vanished. I hope my inner thighs will soon follow'
By Saturday, I can pull on my thinnest Lycra skinny jeans and I've stopped 'seeping'.
I run around all day, taking my daughter to ballet lessons, have
lunch with a friend, and even go to a party with my husband in the
evening. I can't drink because of the antibiotics, but that doesn't
bother me. I feel absolutely fine.
The next day I take the children to a museum and walk about all
day. I'm fine but craving a bath - they are forbidden for five days. I
can already see I'm a different shape - my saddlebags have pretty much
vanished. I hope my inner thighs will soon follow suit.
On Monday, I think I'm not too bruised, but then catch sight of
the back of my inner thighs which are black. I look like I've been run
over by a truck. I can see lots of bright red tiny incisions, too. My
black, blue, green and yellow skin looks unreal, like that of a corpse
pulled out of the river on Silent Witness. Bikini-ready, I'm not.
My legs don't hurt when I'm sitting still and barely hurt when
walking around (though running is not recommended) but getting up from
sitting down is sore. Unfortunately, I don't have the lifestyle that
allows for feeling sorry for myself, so, puffy and swollen, I get on
with doing everything I normally do.
On Tuesday, I feel even more swollen. My skin is tender and in
the evening I feel an intense itch on my right inner thigh. Walking is a
bit sore, as if I have bad sunburn or overdid it at aerobics.
By day six, I feel fatter than ever. My jeans feel super tight on
my tender, bruised skin. I have gained half an inch on my right thigh.
Even though I know it is fluid and swelling, it is pretty dispiriting.
By day ten, I'm still sore, and when my daughter asks me to chase
her, I simply can't, as it's too uncomfortable. But my outer thighs are
much smoother. I've sneakily swapped my nearly full-length elastic
leggings for knee-length M&S support knickers, which are so
comfortable I get hooked on them. Sexy they ain't.
After a fortnight, I find myself trying on clothes and, yes, I
already have a smoother line from my hips to thighs, while my bottom is
smaller and more lifted. I am delighted. My husband agrees I am
noticeably thinner.
A month later, I can slip into trousers that never used to fit
me, while jeans that used to be tight are now loose around my bottom. I
have even thrown away one pair of trousers that are now ludicrously
baggy, and I no longer feel I have to wear long, loose tops over
everything.
Would I do it again? Hell yes! It works better than endless
running round the park. It may leave you looking, for a while, as if
you've been hit by a truck, but your thighs will thank for for it, big
time.
Advanced
Laser Lipolysis, from £2,400: Contact Dr Alan Kingdon at The Cosmetic
Surgery Clinic, visit cosmeticsurgeryclinic.co.uk; 020 8747 4746.
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