Below the belt: vaginal surgery

London sales manager Susan*, 37, exclusively reveals why she had corrective surgery to reduce the size of her labia

One night three years ago, I was sitting alone at home, half watching a programme about people dealing with embarrassing body issues.

Suddenly, a woman started talking about her vagina and I heard the word labiaplasty, a procedure to reduce the size of large labia. I’d never heard of this type of surgery before, but in that moment I felt a spark of recognition, a strange feeling like a door had opened. For years I’d experienced physical discomfort from having large labia; now here was something I could do about it. I’d been aware that my body was different from other girls’ right from puberty, from the very first time someone produced a pornographic magazine and we all gathered round to have a look. Seeing this naked woman and thinking, ‘I don’t look like that’ was very confusing. I didn’t know who to talk to about it; I couldn’t discuss it with my parents or a doctor so I kept it all inside. Embarrassed, I didn’t mention it to anyone for years.

But it was always there in the back of my mind – and I felt especially self-conscious whenever I had sex with someone for the first time. In my teens and twenties, my solution was to simply get drunk and then get on with it. Luckily, no one ever commented.

However, I did hear men in the pub make remarks and jokes about other women. Once a male friend said he’d been with a woman who looked like a jacket potato that had been squashed. When he spoke, I felt myself freeze. Did men talk about me like that? His comments made me feel both sick to my stomach and angry. It was so demeaning.

Then, as I hit my thirties, my labia became even bigger – the skin seemed to loosen and it became more pronounced. This coincided with me starting spinning classes at the gym and cycling a few times a week. I loved the classes, but whenever I exercised it was very uncomfortable. I would leave the gym so sore that the whole area would throb and turn pink. I felt incredibly frustrated, and irritated that I had to restrict what I did simply because of the way my body was formed.

This went on month after month and still I didn’t talk to anybody. Yes, I was uncomfortable after the gym, but I didn’t realise there was anything I could do about it. Then I saw the television programme and it changed everything. Suddenly I felt hopeful.

For six months I researched the procedure, exploring all the pros and cons. I read some horror stories on the internet; one woman had gone in wanting a trim and woke up with all the inner labia and clitoral hood removed. It was mutilation – and very scary to read. But it made me realise how important it is to be confident about who performs the operation.

Next I told my GP. I was incredibly nervous walking into that appointment, as this was the very first time I had talked about my labia with anybody. I didn’t want to be judged; I was doing this because of the discomfort, not because I felt pressure from society to look the same as everyone else. Luckily, my GP was professional and warm, so even though I discovered that the procedure wouldn’t be funded by the NHS, I left with a weight off my shoulders. It would cost me around £3,000, but in the pit of my stomach it felt right – I was definitely going ahead.

Then I talked to a girlfriend about it. We’re very close and, as we were talking about sex, the subject of vaginas came up. She told me that her boyfriend had commented on hers and so I mentioned my experience, the soreness and the operation I was going to have. She was encouraging, and speaking to her made me feel empowered. There was no point in being prudish; this was a physiological issue that could be easily corrected. Mentally I was ready.

The cosmetic surgeon I chose was the second one I met. I was completely sure about my choice but, of course, as the day approached I felt a mixture of extreme nervousness and excitement. At last, after all my mental and emotional investment in this issue, the day had finally arrived.

It was a short operation, less than an hour, and I woke up from the general anaesthetic without any pain. My labia minora had been reduced and dissolvable stitches were in place. I was very swollen but I could tell straight away that what I’d wanted had been done. I was so elated I almost felt giddy. Every time I looked down I was thrilled.

For the next two weeks I stayed off work and took it easy. Because of the medication I was on there was no pain – stubbing my toe hurt more – although going to the toilet did sting. I knew that bruising can happen after an operation and 48 hours after mine, it looked like a black eye down there! But the nurse checked me and said it was fine, and every day I saw an improvement. I had regular check-ups with the surgeon over the next three months, and two months after I went under the knife, I was back in the gym.

The impact on my life has been both physical and emotional. Looking back, I think I hadburied the emotional side of it. I’d accepted my body because I felt that I had no choice, but since the age of 12, I’d felt outside of the norm. Now I have such a sense of freedom. I’m no longer restricted by discomfort and can cycle two days’ running without feeling sore. The only problem is that I have absolutely no excuse to skip that extra spinning class!

Labiaplasty: empowering or exploitative?

Over the past four years, the number of NHS-funded labiaplasties has more than tripled, while surgeries in the private sector have risen even faster. Here, experts debate either side of this controversial operation:

Against: Some people are concerned that labiaplasty operations are creating a new body insecurity, by exploiting women’s fears that what they have down there isn’t ‘normal’.

Last year, a team of London researchers investigated the motivations behind 1,000 recent cases of cosmetic labial surgery, and discovered that most women who underwent the procedure had a ‘distorted image’ of what women’s vaginas are supposed to look like. they blamed this on advertising, but feminist organisation Object says the mainstreaming of pornography – and the rise of brazilian waxes – have a lot to answer for, too.

‘Young women are led to believe that there is something wrong with their bodies if they don’t look like the airbrushed images promoted by mainstream pornography,’ says campaigns manager Anna van Heeswijk. ‘It’s a damning indictment of this “sex-object culture”.’

For: Proponents of the procedure believe the rise in popularity simply reflects an increase in both awareness that the surgery exists, and women’s confidence to act.

Lisa Littlehales, clinic manager at The Harley Medical Group, refutes the argument that women are being made to feel they should look like porn stars. ‘It isn’t a vanity issue for our patients. It is someone feeling uncomfortable about their own body, and if [this] takes away the self- consciousness, then I really think it’s important that we can offer this procedure.’

However, if you are considering surgery, littlehales advises shopping around for a specialist who is qualified as a plastic surgeon and registered on the General Medical Council Specialist Register. ‘You should be told about the different techniques. you should be asked about your reasons. ask ‘what happens if?’ and [talk about] the downsides. You should have a completely clear view, so you can make an informed decision,’ she advises.

*Name changed