My Wife's Plastic Surgery Diary

My Beloved Wife's Plastic Surgery Diary,
Part 1: Winning the Heart of My Beauty

? On China Airlines Boeing 747 flight ci0011, everything was quiet except for the buzzing outside. I glanced at my sleeping wife, Xiao Li, next to me, and couldn't help but smile slightly before drifting off to sleep myself. A thoughtful flight attendant gently covered me with a light blanket. What a beautiful day!
This afternoon, my cousin, whom I had secretly loved for twenty years, and I finally got married amidst the blessings of family and friends. This evening, we boarded this flight to the United States for our honeymoon, and then I'll start work. The days of a blissful marriage I'll spend together from now on are constantly on my mind; I'll probably smile even in my dreams!
Xiao Li was Uncle Tao's only daughter, and also my cousin's cousin. The word "cousin" placed us outside the twelfth degree of kinship, yet our families were next-door neighbors. Although she was two years older than me, with bright eyes and white teeth, long flowing hair, and a lively and adorable personality, she was my devoted elementary school classmate, my playmate with whom I spent every day and night. We even had a wedding ceremony together in fifth grade—you could call us childhood sweethearts.
Back then, I vowed that when I grew up, I would "become an official like the Commander of the Imperial Guard, and marry a woman like Yin Lihua." I was determined to marry Xiao Li. However, the year I graduated from middle school, Xiao Li and her family moved to the United States. I was heartbroken. We corresponded for a while, but the connection gradually faded.
I studied accounting in college, and after graduation, I naturally entered the banking industry. After eight years of diligent and loyal service, I was promoted to representative of the New York branch in the Eastern United States, and I'm about to take office. This is partly due to my hard work and excellent performance, and partly because my father happens to be the chairman of the bank.
A year ago, Xiaoli wrote to say she was married, but less than two months later she wrote again to say she was divorced. Six months ago, she returned to Taipei and stayed at her aunt's house. We met again, and I was stunned by her beauty. She was already thirty-two years old, and had grown considerably taller, probably around 170cm. She had flowing, shoulder-length hair, long, delicate eyebrows, large, beautiful eyes, incredibly long eyelashes (not fake), a straight nose, bright red lips, and fair skin. Add to that her alluring breasts, slender waist, and shapely hips, and she truly embodied the beauty of a woman in her thirties. I was completely captivated by her beauty, so I pursued her relentlessly. After six months of romantic courtship, she finally became my wife.
Uncle Tao and his wife (now my father-in-law and stepmother-in-law) haven't been back to Taipei for a long time, so they'll be delayed a bit as they visit relatives and friends. They won't be returning to their home in the US until next month. Because I'm eager to start my new job, I flew to New York first. My company staff had already found me a furnished apartment in downtown. As soon as I arrived at JFK Airport, someone from my company was there to pick me up. When we arrived at our new home, my wife was so happy looking around that she almost forgot to unpack. She was very satisfied with everything in our new place. 《2》 Spring River Flower Moon Night After seeing off the colleagues who picked us up at the airport, only the two of us remained in the room. Perhaps it was the time difference
, but even though it was already past 8 pm, neither of us felt sleepy. We turned on the TV, and it happened to be Ellen Georgina Rothschild's Stand Talk Show, which was Xiao Li's favorite program. She put down what she was doing, sat on the sofa, and started watching, completely forgetting that this was our first time together. I was too embarrassed to remind her, but what kind of show would a newlywed couple forget their first time? I could only sit beside her on the sofa, watching with her while caressing her. The program might have been entertaining, the dialogue might have been funny, but she watched intently, laughing heartily. However, English wasn't my native language, and I could only understand about 20-30% at most, so it wasn't that funny. Especially now, I only had one thing on my mind; nothing else mattered as much as this. I wanted to lay my bride down on the bed. I clung to Xiaoli, touching her here and there, smelling her there, first hugging and then cuddling her. Xiaoli remained focused on watching TV, seemingly unmoved by my affectionate gestures. But I noticed she was secretly glancing at me, indicating that she was actually aware of my actions but was just pretending not to notice. This puzzled me; what was she delaying? It was 9:30 PM. Although neither of us was sleepy, it was time for our proper bedtime. It was time for our first time together, so I pressed on, "Wife, it's getting late. Let's not miss our first time." I deliberately called her "wife" to make her understand the existence of a marital relationship, the rights and obligations of each person, leaving her no room to dodge. Sure enough, she slowly stood up from the sofa, smiled at me, and said, "Oh! Yes, then you go take a shower first. I'll get your underwear from the luggage. " I said, "I'll wait for you. Come in and shower together, wife!" I opened the bathroom door wide and deliberately said "wife" very loudly. "You shower first, then I'll shower, husband," she already knew I had ulterior motives, so she deliberately said "husband" very loudly as well. Perhaps she was a little shy on the first day. Okay, I quickly showered first, dried myself off, and went back to the room naked to wait for her. She glanced at me quickly, a little shyly, and then took her underwear to shower. A long, long time later, I saw her come out of the bathroom wearing a large bath towel, and said "Bang!" at the door. She turned off the lights, but the New York City night still illuminated the room brightly. She then went to the window and drew the curtains, plunging the room into darkness. She slowly climbed into bed and lay down beside me. A strong scent of Chanel No. 5 wafted towards me. Her warm, soft body drew near, and my heart raced. I embraced her, kissing her sweet lips. Our tongues intertwined. I reached out and grasped her soft, full breasts, slightly swollen yet supple and elastic. She wriggled in my arms, partly trying to escape my advances, and partly welcoming my caresses. I pulled down her panties and reached out to touch her private area, only to find my hand covered in thick hair. It felt strange. In the dim light of the room, I could see a large clump of hair in her private area, which seemed unusual. Without thinking, I found a hole in her vulva with my fingers, climbed on top of her, and thrust my long-erect penis inside, penetrating deeply. This was the bride I had been waiting for since I was nine. When I pulled out, I smelled a strong scent of French perfume, mixed with an unusual, fishy odor. I froze, and my erect penis immediately went limp. Before Xiaoli could react, I had already gotten up and turned on the main light. Xiaoli stared, mouth agape. "What are you doing?" she asked, quickly grabbing a large towel to cover herself. "Wife, are you alright?" I looked down at my penis and saw some milky-white, sticky substance on it. Her face flushed crimson, and she was speechless. She grabbed the towel and covered her face. She stammered, "What are you doing?" The towel was too small; it covered her upper body but exposed her lower body. Xiao Li's private area was completely exposed under the light. Messy, bushy, unevenly long, dark pubic hair covered her mons pubis, labia, vaginal opening, and even extended down to her perineum and anus. The longest hair was almost two inches, while the shortest looked like it had been recently trimmed to one or two centimeters, all in a chaotic mess. Ugh! Is this the view of my super beautiful bridal panties? Add to that the sticky, messy vaginal opening, and it's absolutely disgusting. I understand why she divorced her ex-husband less than six months after their marriage; an only child whose mother died early, lacking knowledge of hygiene, she'd left herself in such a mess. Finally understanding the situation, she rolled over and lay on the pillow, crying incessantly, whether from shame or sorrow. I leaned close to her ear and whispered words of comfort and solace. Slowly, her crying stopped, but she still covered her face with a towel, her back to me. The outside light was already bright, illuminating part of the room through the curtains. It was already the morning of the second day. After a night of turmoil, jet lag had returned. I held her, and we fell asleep again.

Because of the fatigue from yesterday's wedding and the long journey by plane, we slept very well. I woke up at 10:30 in the morning and, having nothing to do, looked up some medical information. By the time she woke up, it was already past 4 pm. She put on some simple makeup, and she looked stunning again. We went out for a meal, and I kept staring at her. She kept her head down, her face flushed, and remained silent.
Back home, we snuggled up in the room, sitting on the edge of the bed. I gently put my arm around her shoulder and whispered in her ear, "Xiao Li, do you know, since I was nine years old, I've vowed to marry you. When I heard you were getting married, I cried for days. I've had a crush on you for almost twenty years.
" She blushed and nodded. I continued, "You are a very, very, very beautiful adult sex goddess, do you know that yourself?" I emphasized the word "very" three times in a row, and she nodded. I immediately followed with "But...", and she listened intently to my "But...", but I paused, staring at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue.
"But what?" she pressed. "But taking off your underwear is really unsightly...it's ugly," I deliberately provoked her. "Others look good! Go look there, why did you marry me?" she snapped, trying to stand up. I quickly held her down, tightly gripping her waist, and pressed her back down. I said to her seriously,
"You have a condition called hirsutism. Let me show you what normal looks like." I pulled her to a laptop, opened a medical website, and immediately displayed clear, colorful images of female genitalia: pink clitoris, wrinkled, red labia minora protecting the slightly parted vaginal opening, and sparse pubic hair gently obscuring the shy clitoris on the pubic bone—truly pleasing to the eye.
She glanced at it and said, "Other people's are prettier, go look at them, why are you looking at mine
?" She was a little annoyed. I quickly calmed her down and said, "Let's go see a doctor, I guarantee I'll give you a beautiful vagina." I deliberately used a dirty word to train her to understand male and female desire and pleasure, so she wouldn't be a princess in an ivory tower anymore. I slowly persuaded her to get female genital plastic surgery in New York. I called our bank's New York branch and asked my future deputy, the branch's deputy manager, who was also my college senior, to recommend a hospital. Soon he got me an appointment at Upper Town Central Hospital for next Tuesday's gynecology clinic, and it was with the head doctor.
That afternoon, I went to the hospital with her. The chief physician, J. Hoffmann MD, was an Indian doctor in his early fifties, speaking with a strong British accent. He was serious yet humorous. After examining her with a speculum and endoscope, he wrote down the following four conclusions:
1. Chronic cervicitis
; 2. Hirsutism
; 3. Unsymmetrical labia, large labia reduction needed;
4. Overhood clitoris.
He explained each point to us:
1. Chronic cervical erosion requires medication to clear it. Two or three courses of treatment, about half a month, should be sufficient for a complete cure.
2. Hirsutism requires hair removal as the first step. Hirsutism easily leads to fecal contamination of the vagina, which can cause cervical problems. Laser hair removal is not quick and requires repeated treatments, taking at least one to two months. A more painful method, Brazilian wax, should be used.
3. Your wife's labia minora are somewhat deformed, the right side is larger than the left. This can be corrected surgically at the same time, with a healing period of one month.
4. Her clitoral foreskin is too long, which will cause decreased sensation during sexual intercourse. This can be considered for treatment at
the same time. Xiao Li listened intently from the side. Her English level is far superior to mine; she could understand all the medical terms and had an urge to be hospitalized immediately.
Dr. Hoffmann added: These surgeries require consultation from three departments in our hospital: 1. Gynecology, 2. Surgery, and 3. Plastic Surgery. It's not easy to coordinate consultations from all three. I can recommend a clinic and a doctor to handle everything.
He then asked the assistant nurse to print out an examination record and clinic address on the computer and told us to go see this all-around doctor for treatment.
《3》 Medical Visit Diary
My wife was very excited when she got home and kept urging me to make an appointment. I went to the clinic first to check out the environment. The clinic was only three blocks from our apartment and three blocks from the two World Trade Center towers. It was on the third floor of a thirteen-story building. The shop was very elegant and clean. Next door on the same floor was a jewelry store. It was quiet and didn't have much of a commercial atmosphere. The hospital door had two lines of large characters printed on it:
gynecology / plasty
gonenjh md.
I couldn't pronounce the doctor's name at all (I later learned that he was also Indian). The clinic seemed very safe, so I went in to inquire. A nurse greeted me when I pushed open the door. She showed me the examination room, operating room, X-ray room, pharmacy, and three wards (all with patients inside). I thought the conditions were pretty good, so I made an appointment for my wife's afternoon appointment a week later.
When I got home, I told my wife, and she became very anxious, scaring herself every day. She worried about whether she needed to have her abdomen opened, whether there would be a lot of bleeding, whether she would need general anesthesia, and whether she would have a hideous scar. I knew she desperately wanted the surgery to be over so all her ailments would disappear.
Finally, a week passed, and we arrived at the clinic on time. The doctor, a typical Indian man, sat in the examination room chair. His English was fluent, with a completely American accent. After reviewing Dr. Hoffmann's diagnostic record, he asked Xiaoli to lie down on the examination table, take off her pants, and examined her with instruments. Then he told my wife to get up and put her pants back on. She looked terrified and hid behind me, listening to the doctor's conclusion.
He told us, "Your wife has a lot of pubic hair, which will cause many problems during the surgery. Before the surgery, we must remove the hair, not only all the pubic hair, but also the hair around the perineum and anus, to prevent future infection. Only then can we proceed with other treatments.
If you decide to have the procedure done, we can do the hair removal today, followed by cervical treatment and other surgeries immediately." I asked my wife's opinion, and she immediately agreed to do it right away. We signed the surgical and anesthesia consent forms and pre-paid with a blank credit card.
She went to the changing room to change into her surgical gown. Her hairy pubic area faced the operating light, and she lay naked on the operating table. The nurse used a horizontal curtain to block her vertical vision. I gave her an encouraging gesture, and she smiled and gave me an OK sign before closing her eyes to rest
. The nurse disinfected my wife's genitals with antiseptic solution, then used a high-speed electric hair clipper to shave her pubic hair from top to bottom. A large amount of thick, dark pubic hair fell out, leaving only about one centimeter in length. The nurse then sprayed it with what she called an anesthetic, a very thin layer that dried quickly.
Before the doctor could even touch it, the nurse took out a bottle of something resembling Vaseline gel, and with a plastic scraper, brushed a small piece onto my wife's pubic hair. After waiting about a second, she quickly peeled off this almost dried, paper-like layer of wax. The entire pubic hair came off with the wax. Before my wife could even cry out in pain, a small area of pubic hair had fallen out. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she gritted her teeth and didn't let them fall. A woman's ability to endure pain for the sake of beauty is truly remarkable.
The hair was plucked bit by bit, leaving her labia still covered in bloody marks, a truly gruesome sight. Yet, she kept her eyes closed, clenching her teeth to remain silent, which filled me with utter admiration. Finally, the hair was plucked from her anus to the vaginal opening, taking two and a half hours.
Next came the vaginal irrigation and disinfection. A dark purple solution was poured in while a scraper removed necrotic tissue from the cervix. After cleaning, a thick, penis-shaped plastic balloon was inserted into the vagina, supposedly to prevent new tissue from sticking. The balloon was inflated by pressing it, leaving it inside the balloon.
The doctor said the surgery needed to be done in one go, and asked me to stand about five or six feet behind the operating table to watch. He administered local anesthesia to the patient's vulva, injecting anesthetic into the labia. After a short rest, the nurse applied some disinfectant and handed the doctor a long, thin surgical forceps, somewhat like hemostats. The doctor tested the anesthesia to see if it was working, then used the forceps to clamp my wife's protruding labia minora, clamping the large left labia minora protruding from the urethral opening—about the size of a dumpling wrapper.
He then used another identical surgical instrument to clamp the right labia minora, which was significantly smaller than the left—what the doctor called "unsymmetrical." After comparing the two pieces to ensure the correct removal area was reached, the doctor locked the two forceps together. The nurse handed him a pair of sharp scissors, and the doctor snipped off the excess left labia minora with a "snap, snap."
Because the forceps resembled hemostats, only a small amount of blood oozed from the wound. The assistant nurse wiped away the blood with cotton swabs, and the doctor picked up a suture needle and stitched the wound closed, one stitch at a time. Then, he removed the forceps from the left side and began using the surgical forceps on the right side to check for symmetry with the left labia. After confirming, he used sharp scissors to cut off the right labia minora and then closed the wound with a suture needle.
Watching the doctor deftly cut off pieces of flesh with the sharp scissors, "snip...snip..."—a routine procedure for a doctor—made my heart race and my palms sweat as I listened and saw it all.
My wife lay there conscious, her eyes darting around, her gaze unfocused, her face blank with innocence.
After the labiaplasty, a catheter was inserted, followed by a clitoral unhooding procedure. The excess foreskin was cut open, allowing the pink clitoris to emerge from its cover. This incision was quick, but because the area was small, the suturing took a considerable amount of time, requiring the doctor to wear surgical goggles.
After the surgery, the area was bandaged, and the patient was moved to a ward where an IV drip of nutrition was started to allow her to rest. I checked my watch; it was already past 8 PM. The patient couldn't eat, but I was starving. I stayed with my wife in the ward that day.
The next morning, a nurse came to change the medication, empty the bedpan, and bring the patient breakfast and post-meal anti-inflammatory medication. Actually, my wife had been awake for a while. I asked her if the surgery had hurt, and she opened her bright eyes wide and said, "Of course it hurt! It hurts so much!"
At 9:30 AM, the doctor came to check on her, and after he left, she kept complaining of pain.
The nurse gave her some painkillers and sleeping pills to take. Before going to bed, she said she wanted to see what a hairless vulva looked like. I disagreed, but when the nurse came to change her medication in the afternoon, she saw it. When she saw a vulva that looked like a child's, hairless, although still somewhat bloody and indistinct, she was incredibly excited.
Every day, the medication was changed, the balloon was removed, the area was doucheed, the balloon was inserted again, and inflated. Two days later, the catheter was removed, and she had a bowel movement. The nurse then instructed her on how to properly use toilet paper to wipe her anus to avoid vaginal infection. This helped my wife understand women's personal hygiene.
My wife is back to her old self, clamoring for Subway fast food vegetable sandwiches. Her daily routine is incredibly rigid. She's also complaining that the balloon inserted into her vagina keeps getting bigger and bigger, causing her great discomfort, and she's insisting on having it removed. The doctor explained that new tissue is growing in her cervix and vagina, and they're worried about it sticking together. Furthermore, if the vaginal diameter shrinks, it will affect the size of her future birth canal, which is detrimental to fertility in women of marriageable age. They said she must endure it for a few more days, and it will be removed naturally.
These boring hospital days, the two of us facing each other 24/7, taking medication, changing dressings, getting encouragement, watching TV, eating meals, reading the newspaper—we finally got through it. In the ward, my wife and I made every vow imaginable except for sex. The nurses, knowing we were newlyweds, even brought us lots of flowers. They also gave us plenty of privacy so we could be affectionate in the ward. We were practically burning with lust, inseparable every day.
This morning, the doctor had the nurses move my wife to the operating table for an examination. They told us that her cervicitis and vaginitis were under control, and that today they would fold her labia and foreskin. She could be discharged tomorrow morning, pick up some medication, and change it at home; that would be the end of her treatment. However, the treatment for her hirsutism wasn't finished yet. She would need to come back about once a month for laser hair removal follow-up, and several follicle removal
procedures would be performed, leaving a tuft of hair above her pubic bone as a souvenir. Next, under the doctor's supervision, we had her vagina cleaned at the hospital. They removed the enormous "balloon" from her vagina—it was about 20 centimeters long and 5 centimeters in diameter! They gave us a vaginal douche device and taught us how to use it and where to buy the medication. They also gave us a small glass bottle containing two pieces of her labia that had been cut off, soaked in formalin solution. My wife immediately blushed.
Tonight, I did the last of the nurses' work changing medications for Xiaoli in the hospital, teaching her how to change her own medications and even how to manage her menstruation. Xiaoli lost her mother at a young age and grew up on her own. It's truly pitiful that a 32-year-old woman doesn't even know basic self-management.
I slept with Xiaoli in the ward again tonight. I felt someone sneak into the ward in the middle of the night. I wanted to scold them, but I couldn't make a sound. I saw the person, who seemed to be the doctor from earlier in the day, quietly walk to Xiaoli's bedside, pull off her sleeping patient pants, spread her legs, take out his large penis, and thrust it in with a "pop." Xiaoli woke up, her eyes wide open, unable to make a sound. After a while, perhaps aroused, she reached out and hugged the doctor tightly, welcoming his thrusts, moaning softly.
I was furious, wanting to shout but unable to, trying to get up but feeling as if a thousand pounds were pressing down on me, unable to break free, and drifted back to sleep. When I woke up, everything was calm, as if nothing had happened, and Xiaoli was still peacefully asleep.
I didn't know if Xiaoli's dream last night was a nightmare or reality. Seeing Xiaoli still in a sweet dream, with a happy smile on her face, I really couldn't tell if it was evil or not, it felt like a dream of the goddess Xiang.
Seeing that Xiaoli was dressed neatly, I finally felt relieved.
Part Four: Harmony of Love
We finally returned to our sweet home, changed our clothes, and went to a restaurant for a delicious dinner. We also ordered a bottle of French Bordeaux red wine as our wedding wine. We strolled home leisurely. Xiaoli was still removing her makeup when I went to the bathroom to shower. Xiaoli shouted loudly from the room, "Wait for me!" I had already dried myself and gone to bed.
Xiao Li quickly showered, dried herself off, and rushed to bed. She eagerly clung to me. "Aren't you going to turn off the light?" I asked. "No," she said, pressing tightly against my chest, her breasts pressed against mine, and she leaned in for a kiss.
I embraced her and laid her flat on the bed. We had been aroused for many days, both of us feeling intensely passionate, our breathing rapid. I knelt between her legs, and we both looked at her private area—a plump, fleshy cleft with a small, pink bud about the size of a peanut.
Slightly below, her labia minora, with two wrinkled folds nestled between her labia majora, resembled those of a young girl. Below that was a beautiful vaginal opening, already glistening wetly under the light, emitting a sweet, sour smell. Although there wasn't much pubic hair around her vulva, a few hair follicles were already peeking out with black tips; I knew that was what would be removed later using laser hair removal.
I aimed at her vulva and thrust my hard penis all the way in. She arched her back and took my entire penis inside. During the thrusting, I asked her a question: "What should we call each other?" "Of course, you call me sister, and I'll call you brother," she said.
"Are there brothers who climb on top of their sisters and thrust?" "Then what will you call me?" she asked. "Wife, husband," I said. "We're not from Hong Kong, I don't want that," she said. "Then I'll call you Christine, and you call me Joseph," I said, and then thrust faster and deeper a dozen more times.
"No! It's too Westernized, and there's no intimacy." She straightened her back in response to my movement and hugged me tighter. "Hey!" I said. "Don't be silly," she rolled her eyes at me, "Call me brother, you call me little sister, I'll give you a break.
" At that moment, I tensed up and ejaculated into her vagina, filling it completely. She hugged me tightly and I also reached orgasm.

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My Wife's Plastic Surgery Diary

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