I go to the hospital with Jonny, my fiance, to see Alessandra Canal, a consultant plastic surgeon. I feel sick and shaky, and worry that she will think I do not warrant a breast reduction. I am a whopping 36G. My breasts are so heavy that my nipples are level with my belly button. The backache and shooting pains in my breasts are getting worse and I have constant groove marks in my shoulders from my bra straps. I am measured to see if I am big enough to qualify for the operation . I am - a relief, as I could not pay to go private.

November 4 2003

I receive a letter informing me of the operation date: just under three weeks' time. I am excited, but Jonny asks if this is still what I really want. There is no doubt in my mind. Even knowing all the risks involved - loss of nipple, infections, anaesthetic complications - my mind is made up.

November 14 2003

I decide to tell all our friends during a usual Friday evening at the pub. Living in a close community, I don't want to be talked about and want people to hear about the operation from me. Most of them have an idea and have been teasing Jonny, but tonight is my chance to get their reactions. They are embarrassed to begin with, but then want to know why I feel I have to have a breast reduction: I have always covered up so well. Even after explaining how I feel and the reasons why, the guys don't understand and think Jonny is a lucky chap. I am angry that they don't understand. Maybe they don't want to. I feel they see breasts purely as sexual objects for their benefit.

November 17 2003

Feel negative and wonder what on earth I am doing. I am sick at work and very tearful. A friend talks me through it and reassures me that it is my decision, and that I can still change my mind. It is at this point that I feel, no, this is the right thing to do for me.

November 24 2003: The operation

Wake up on Monday feeling queasy and am sick. I can't stop crying. Jonny tries to keep me calm. I feel guilty for putting him through this. I telephone the hospital and am told there is no bed available. Initially, I am relieved, but thenfeel devastated that I may not have my reduction. Then, two hours later, at 10am, we are told they have a bed. In the hospital, things move very quickly. Ms Canal marks my breasts where the incisions will be made and I am prepared for theatre. For the first time, I see how worried Jonny is and he breaks down. I hadn't realised how difficult this has been for him.

Lying on the operating trolley, I am shaking so much my legs have to be held down. A heart monitor is attached, I squeeze the anaesthetist's hand and look at the clock - it is nine minutes before 2pm ...

Wake up at 8pm in recovery and want to be left alone. Feel very tired and breathing is difficult. I stay in recovery overnight and am taken back to the ward, but feel worse. A chest x-ray reveals a collapsed lung; a chest drain is put in. Finally, I can breathe. Things improve quickly from this point. The chest drain is removed on Friday and I go home.

After the weekend, I return to have my bandages removed. Excited about how "they" will look, but also apprehensive. Once the bandages are removed, I look down: it is strange to be able to see my tummy and nipples for the first time. My initial reaction is that, even without a bra, there is none of the back pain or heaviness I have suffered for so many years. Jonny is shocked by the prominent bruising and scars. I feel very emotional and cry, as the results are much better than I had imagined - and, for once, there is no pain.

Recuperation

Recovery is slow. I'm tired and weak and rely on Jonny totally, even to bath me. My first shopping trip for new clothes is with a close friend. I am measured for a bra for the first time since the operation and am thrilled to be a 34C. It takes me two hours to decide which bras to buy; I have never had a choice before. Buying new tops is an eye-opener: I have gone down from a size 16/18 to a size 10/12. My whole attitude to buying clothes has changed, and I feel far more confident.

Opting for a breast reduction was the biggest decision I have ever had to make - and one that took me nearly two years - but I have not had a minute's regret.