Chapter 12

My dream of being enveloped by a warm, white light morphed into reality when I opened my eyes to the Queensland sunshine streaming across my bed. A smile of amazement crawled over my face as I stared out the high-rise windows of our hotel suite and forward to the glorious ocean vista. "Oh, wow..."

We'd flown in the night before, and although the view from our Hilton windows had been pretty in the dark, it was nothing compared to the daylight outlook. We were on the 40th floor, in a luxurious sub-penthouse that would have made even Kim and Kanye nod in approval. It was glass and linen and marble, everything in whites and ocean blues, and simply stunning.

I snuggled down under the butter-soft cotton sheets, revelling in the indulgence, but it was short lived.

"Morning, sunshine!" Heather bounced in. "We're going in half an hour! There's an organic juice bar downstairs, so we can grab something on the way to Radiance."

"Go without me." I pulled the sheet over my head.

Heather's footsteps moved stealthily around the bed; I couldn't see her, but I grinned like a cheeky toddler under the covers as she stalked me.

I didn't have to wait long. "Yah!" Heather threw back the sheet and whacked me with a pillow in one swift movement. "Come on, woman! I'm coming in with you! Don't deprive me of the chance to buy some boobies!"

"You're crazy!" Giggling, I rolled off the bed and dug my toes into the plush carpet. "You're already freaking gorgeous! Boobs aren't going to change that."

A handful of decorative oranges lay in a bowl on my dressing table. Heather grabbed two and stuck them inside her shirt, where they pushed outrageously against the material. "But I want to look like this!" she said, laughing and spinning like one of the Fashion week models.

"Gross! You'll look like a Barbie doll!"

"Damn straight I will! I mean, if they ever make a redhead Barbie with a lesbian life partner..."

We showered and dressed. Heather told me that Radiance would have something for me to wear, so I pulled on jeans and a loose cotton shirt. Is it wishful thinking or are these looser...? I pulled at the waistband, remembering how only a few weeks before in Robbo's office they'd felt like they were cutting off the circulation to my waist.

Curious, I stepped on the glass scales, placed discreetly in the corner of the spa-like bathroom. "Dammit..."

"What?" Heather appeared, her freckled face curious.

"Nothing. I just thought I might have lost some weight, that's all."

"And have you?"

"Not according to those things." I nodded to the scales. "Like half a kilo. Barely anything."

"Bah, don't listen to the scales!" She grabbed me by the shoulders and pointed me to the mirror. "Look at yourself. How do you feel?"

I tried twisting away from my reflection, but she held me tight. Answering quickly, I said, "I don't know... Good, I guess? I haven't been dieting or anything, so I don't know why I expected anything to be different."

"Well, I can tell you, you look different, no matter what you're feeling or what the scales say. Your bum and thighs are definitely tighter!"

"Yeah, I don't think so."

"Trust me, Evi. They are. Plus your skin seems clearer. You look great!"

"Thanks, lady." I brushed it off, unable to accept the compliment. "Shall we juice?"

Fifteen minutes later, we jumped on a Gold Coast city tram. "These are brand new," said Heather, sucking on her mango and pineapple blend. "They're a great alternative to driving everywhere around here, and they encourage people to walk more."

The flashy yellow and blue tram travelled us swiftly from Surfers Paradise to Broadbeach, where the Radiance centre occupied an architecturally fancy building near the beach. The exterior screamed of professionalism and expensive treatment, and as we stepped inside, we found more of the same.

"Welcome to Radiance! My name is Grace. How can we make your dreams come true today?" A beautiful blonde girl stepped in front of us. Dressed in pure white scrubs, her face glowed with inner wellness, and her perfect figure showed through the loose material.

"Dreams?" I questioned, a cynical smile tugging at my lips.

Heather cut me off before I could say anything too negative. "Hi! This is Evi Moore, she's spending the week here for the Jump Start morning show, and I'm Heather Arthu, I have an appointment for a consult."

The blonde's face burst into a smile built of shiny white teeth. "Oh gosh! Your first consult with Dr Blake? You're going to looove him!"

"I'm sure I will!" Heather gushed right back. "I've watched his videos on Youtube; he seems sooo amazing!"

"He is! He really is!" Grace reached for Heather's hands and squeezed them lovingly. "We'll take care of you here."

Feeling mischievous, I slurped the last of my juice loudly, disturbing the piped harp music echoing through the front entrance. "So, what's the dealio? When do I meet Dr Slice'em?"

Rather than the grins I was trying to incite, both Heather and Grace turned to me with wounded expressions. Grace responded. "He'll be in his office shortly; he begins his day with a five kilometre run, then spends half an hour performing his affirmations before he sees patients. He's incredibly dedicated."

"Where I come from, dedicated doctors spend time reviewing patient files rather than their own goals, but whatever." I tossed the juice cup in a nearby bin. "Lead on."

Grace ushered us through to the waiting room. I'd never really spent much time considering the type of people who'd get plastic surgery. Even if I had, I probably would have been surprised by the only woman waiting for the first appointment.

She was a glamourous creature, and certainly not someone who I would have thought needed any help in the aesthetics department. She could have almost been Grace's twin, a willowy blonde with a generous breast line. She played nervously with her phone as we walked past.

"I already don't like this industry," I whispered to Heather. "That girl does not need cosmetic surgery."

"Shh!" Heather turned her hazel eyes on me in warning. "You don't know her story; stop judging!"

"I'll know it soon enough..." My first day would be spent observing consults with Dr Blake. Patients would sign a waiver to allow my presence in the room, and although I was unwilling to admit it to Heather, I was fascinated to sit in.

Heather took a seat near the other girl and waved me off. Grace hustled me away, plying me with ND's to sign, observation etiquette, and a set of my own white scrubs.

I changed in a small dressing room with a lucky bamboo plant and an inspirational poster in a frame with a picture of a sunset and words declaring, 'To pursue betterment is akin to enlightenment.' Snorting at the quote, I pulled on the scrubs, adoring the stretchy waistband and the way they hid all manner of ills. I should get a pair of these for home...

As she walked me through the building, Grace gave me a tour-guide spiel. "Radiance Beauty Centre is the culmination of Dr Blake's vision for a place where dreams can come true. Along with his world-class cosmetic surgery clinic, we also house several other therapies designed to allow our clients to feel as beautiful as possible, including chakra cleansing massage and aromatherapy."

"Do you also have an apothecary? I'm running pretty low on Polyjuice potion..."

My hilarity sailed over her head. "I can check with the pharmacist, if you like. This is Dr Blake's office."

Grace left me sitting in an expansive room, with more nature pictures on the walls and fountain in the corner. A desk the size of a dining table sat in front of the floor to ceiling windows, with a chair that looked more like an ornate wooden throne parked majestically behind it.

Outside the windows, a lush Zen garden was being carefully tended by a grounds keeper. He raked a perfect yin-yang symbol in the sand, and I watched him, both bored and fascinated as I waited on the great doctor.

In my head, I pictured a serious man, someone very pompous and unethical who thought only of fleecing customers dry. After all, who else would go into cosmetic surgery? Why spend years and years at medical school only to give up actually helping people in order to Botox and tummy tuck?

At five to ten, he burst through the doors, dispelling the image I'd created immediately. "Hi! I'm Doctor Blake! You must be Evi! Come on, let's hug it out!"

A man who looked like a movie star and spoke like Tony Robbins strode towards me and embraced me warmly. "It's great to have you here, Evi! I can't wait for you to experience what Radiance is all about."

"Uh... Hi." I swallowed, feeling suddenly heated by the sheer pulsating energy and enthusiasm of the man in front of me. Besides being tall and sporting a sculpted head of tan hair, he had a smile that could melt despots, and I felt myself cracking. I didn't want to instantly like him, but I did.

"Sit! Right up here, so you don't miss a thing. Here, you can use my chair today." He proffered the throne towards me, and pulled a simple white stool over. "Do you have any questions before we get started?"

The reported in me had deserted, leaving me alone and babbling. "Um... I don't think so... I just want to watch for a little while. Then, maybe we can chat at lunch or something?"

"I don't take lunch on a consult day. I want to give every patient my full attention. But, how about Wednesday? You'll be observing surgery that day, so we'll get out of here on the break. Sound good?"

His glowing mocha eyes burned into me and I swallowed thickly. "Yeah."

"Great!" He hit a button on the phone. "Grace? We're ready in here."

A moment later, the nervous blonde woman from the waiting room stuck her head around the corner. "Good morning?"

"Hi, Haley! Come in! I'm Dr Blake, and this is Evi!" He moved around the desk and clasped her trembling hands. "How can I help you make a dream come true today?"

Inwardly, I winced. Seeing the pretty Haley up closer and exposed in a simple hospital gown, I couldn't honestly see a single thing that needed Dr Blake's help.

He drew her over to the leather couch and sat beside her. She seemed barely aware of my presence in the room; unsurprising, since Dr Blake seemed to occupy more space and energy than the average person. "Um... Well, it's not so much as making a dream, as fixing one."

"Tell me all about it," he said.

Haley was fighting tears already as she told her story. "Well, I went over to Thailand with my best friend a few months ago. We'd saved up so we could both have breast enlargements and have a holiday at the same time. It's seemed like such a great idea, but... But..."

"It's okay, Haley. We'll look after you now. What happened?"

His soothing tones encouraged her to go on. "After a few weeks, my right breast started to harden, which they'd told me would happen, and when I called the clinic, they said I should just massage it. But it hurt, like, a lot. It got so bad, I would be rubbing it, just crying and taking a ton of painkillers and crying some more. And now..."

She slipped the gown from her shoulders, and it took everything within me not to gasp out loud. Her left breast was smooth and shapely, a perfect, perky D-cup. Her right was a freak show; it was bulgy and uneven, pushing outwards through the delicate skin in unnatural angles. The nipple was distended, the areola purple and painful, and the entire globe looked like a rock in a sock.

"I'm ruined," said the girl, weeping.

"No, you're not," said the doctor. "I can fix you, Haley. Don't you worry at all; we'll get this dream back on track."

In my seat, I harrumphed. Well, if she'd never gotten the surgery in the first place... I'm still right. This industry is vampiric.

But the clients I saw all day keep changing my views, little by little, until I wasn't sure what I thought anymore. The next lady was a slender mother of four with a tummy like a deflated balloon, who desperately wanted a stomach lift so she could feel good naked in front her husband again. Then, there came a nineteen year old with a beak-like nose which protruded so far forward, it looked like a stick-on Halloween rubber proboscis. She'd been teased clear out of high school, and had contemplated suicide before because of how she looked.

Sure, there were a few wealthy older women who wanted a facelift, but mostly, it was just real people, trying to find a way to feel good about themselves. The one that broke my heart was the case of a slim guy in his mid-twenties with massive man-boobs. He'd been on medication which caused them to grow, and no matter how much weight he lost or how much he worked out, they wouldn't go. He wept in Dr Blake's arms, and I had to admire the compassion of the doctor, even if I didn't agree with everything he stood for.

The last appointment of the day was a familiar face. "Hi, Heather," said Dr Blake. "Ready to realise a dream?"

As if she was meeting a royal, Heather dipped slightly in awe as the big man reached for her hand. "Oh, wow. Yes! I so am!"

He bellowed in laughter. "Great! I love your passion! What can we do to help you be your best you?"

"Well, I've always hated being flat. I don't even feel like a woman, you know? Just a big unsexy stick insect. I want boobs. That's it."

Her hopeful smile tore at my heart. Why can't you see yourself the way I do? The way Andie does?

"We can do that," he reassured her. "Come and take a look..." Dr Blake flipped a switch and the TV over the desk glowed to life. On the screen was a photo of Heather, obviously taken earlier in the other room. Heather stood in profile, clad in only her bra and shorts.

"We've fed your picture into our program which will give you an accurate idea of how you'll look with different cup sizes." He clicked a mouse and on the television, Heather's breasts began to grow. From an almost unperceivable swell, they morphed into lovely B-cups. "What do you think?"

"Bigger!" cried Heather.

The cups grew again, this time to C-cups which, even I had to admit, balanced Heather's frame beautifully. Dr Blake said, "These look about right, don't you think?"

But Heather wasn't happy. "More! Come on, doc! Don't hold out on me!"

He chuckled and hit the screen again. Heather's doppelganger expanded a third time, then a fourth. "There! That one!" she pointed excitedly.

I'd been sitting silently, swearing that I wouldn't interfere, but the sight of my beautiful friend with breasts like a specialty porn star made me cringe. "Heather..."

"Evi, butt out." She dismissed me quickly, and turned to the doctor. "Those ones. I want them. How soon can you get me in?"

"We can make a booking for you in a month or so, if you like?"

"What? A month! That's ages away!"

"I require all my patients to wait at least a month on their decision before moving forward." He clicked 'print' and two pictures of Heather shot out into a printer tray on the desk. "I want you to take these and go home. Think very carefully about the surgery. Remember you'll have a lengthy recovery period, so you'll need to have a support person to help you through the first few weeks."

He handed her the two pictures and she screwed up her nose. "Why did you print the photo with the smaller breasts too? I don't want those ones."

"In my humble opinion, that size is your ideal." He smiled gently and adjusted the picture on the screen back to the C-cups. "Take both, talk it over with your partner and friends, get some second opinions. Call me in a month, and I'll see you after that if you're still keen."

"You bet your sweet booty, I will be!"

I wanted to protest, but Heather's ecstatically happy face stopped me. I didn't like it, but I didn't have to. It was her body after all, and I couldn't dictate to her about how she was supposed to feel comfortable in her skin. I'd never been comfortable in my own; who was I to judge?

***

"Heather, please, please, I am begging you; let me stay with our towels!" I pleaded with the determined redhead, clinging to my bright kaftan as though all my organs might fall out if it were to open.

She'd forced me down to the beach after work. I'd dragged my heels every step of the way, taking an inordinate amount of time to put my swimsuit on, hoping she'd just give up and go without me. She didn't. She simply threatened to come into the bathroom after me, and I knew she wasn't kidding.

The beach was spectacular; a flawless white crescent flooded in brilliant sunshine, while glossy azure waves lapped energetically over the shore. But no matter how pretty it might have been, I still didn't want to let go of my cover-up in order to dip in the water.

"Evi! Stop messing around. A swim in the ocean will make you feel like a million bucks! Strip! Let's go!" She towered over me, a fierce warrior in her ivy bikini, which hugged her slender lines effortlessly.

Something broke in me and I hissed at her. "Heather, you have no idea what it's like for someone who looks like me! You're skinny and perfect! No one looks twice at you in a swimsuit. Do you know what people think when they see me? 'Yah! A white whale!"

Even my grizzled pirate voice didn't crack the tension. She narrowed her eyes at me. "Evi, honestly. Get over yourself. Look around; there's people everywhere down here, fat, thin, tall short - no one cares! And if they looked, so what? The only person judging you is you!"

I wanted to respond with legitimate fears about getting snapped by a photographer and ending up in a New Weekly article about B-list celebrities who'd let themselves go, but Heather looked so pissed, I didn't dare.

"I'm done. Come, or don't." She spun and strode off on the soft sand, headed for the gold and red flags in front of the life guard tower.

Cringing, I knelt on the towel. I hated the way she'd given up; Heather had been incredibly patient with me, and if she was giving up, I must have been doing poorly in her eyes.

Looking around, I knew she was right. The beach was filled with tourists and locals of all shapes and sizes. Certainly, not everyone looked like a Vogue model – definitely not the darkly tanned man in speedos wearing gold chains and sporting a magnificent beer belly proudly. No one was looking at me. I wasn't that fascinating.

Steeling myself, I shed my cover-up, lowered my eyes to the sand and hustled my way to the waves, praying the entire time that no one pointed and laughed. When my feet hit the water, I gasped from the chill, but plunged forward, determined to get beneath the surface and hide.

"Hey! You came in!" Heather sloshed over to me, grinning happily. "Come on! Let's get out past the breakers."

She grabbed my hand, and together we pushed through the brisk waves. As the first significant wall of water crashed over my head, I gargled salty water, and everything went out of my mind. I was consumed by water and sun, by staying upright and breathing. I was weightless and waterlogged and happy.

We swam for an hour or so before heading back into shore. With a fluffy hotel towel wrapped tightly around me, I stretched my arms to the sky. "Oh my God! I feel incredible!"

Heather hugged me. "Yay! What do you want to do now?"

The ocean had sucked away my self-absorption, and I knew exactly what needed to be done. "I want to call Matt."

Weigh in on the cosmetic surgery debate in the comments - would you go under the knife?  Thanks for reading, and please remember to vote!  xxoo Kate