| Comic actor ANT writes about his liposuction experience in this article appearing in Genre Magazine. |
"Who is that fat man in my bathroom with me?" I shrieked as I looked up, eyes full of soap, at a reflection in the mirror. Oh, my God, that's my reflection!
I had heard about liposuction on television, and read about it in the paper. Was it safe? Were men having it done? Does it hurt? The answer to all three of those questions, I would later learn is, "Yes."
I interviewed several doctors before making my decision. Most seemed nice, all seemed competent and every one of them promised the moon. 'Six-pack of abs? I can give you that, no problem."
One even asked the most ridiculous question: "How much fat do you want me to take?" How much? I thought." I want to walk into a party with Kate Moss as my date, and I want people to say, 'Who's that fat bitch with Ant?' That's how much I want you to take. I'm spending $10,000. Take it all!"
I wasted no time selecting Dr.Harvey Abrams, the man who would sculpt my body back into the shape God intended. After two consultations with Harvey, I knew he was the doctor for me. His credentials were impeccable, he understood the importance of a good physique and, most importantly, he was gorgeous.
The day of the surgery was very scary for me. My friend Sean drove me to the surgery center and helped to calm my fears. What if I die on the table? " Nobody dies from liposuction,' he quipped. "They die from the anesthesia."
We arrived at at the center at 7:30 in the morning. A nurse, gave me a light iodine body wash, as I was prepped for surgery. On the operating table, bright lights glared down onto my naked body. The room filled with surgical people. Gary Venet, the anesthesiologist, asked if I had anything I wanted to say before he put me under. "Yes," I said, "I watch Dateline, and I know you guys do things with your patients while they're under." The room fell silent. "Here's a condom-I like it nice and slow." Cracking jokes always calms my nerves. He flipped the switch. I was out.
Four hours passed, and I awoke in the recovery room fully recovered from the anesthesia. Bright flowers and five liters of the fat removed from my abdomen filled the room. Why did I ever ask to see it? The nurse entered, and told me that since my midsection was pumped full of saline solution, I could not leave until I urinated to equalize my internal pressures. With that, he grabbed my penis and aimed it at a bedpan. I know this sounds terrible, but I wished he had Parkinson's, as a little shaking would have gone a long way.
Six weeks later, when my support garment was removed, I was the new version 2.0 me. Since then, my sex life has improved ten-fold, my self-esteem has gone through the roof and my confidence levels are at an all-time high.
Am I a believer in plastic surgery? It may not be for everyone, but for me it was just what the doctor ordered.
