A woman recently shared on Facebook on how her past plastic surgery has ruined her family life. It all started when she underwent plastic surgery in Korea before she met her current husband. Things went from bad to worse after the birth of her child as the child did not resemble her husband at all.

Here is her full story.

I’m in a lot of pain right now. Not because of what I did to my face several years ago, but because my husband is questioning if our daughter is really his. He thinks she does not look like both of us. But how can I tell him that Sarah (using another name to protect my daughter) actually looks a lot like me before my makeover?

Blame it on my beauty obsession. When I was 23, I went to Korea for a series of procedures. I was really happy with the rhinoplasty, but not so much with the facelift and eyebag removal. But overall, I was happy with a better me, and it increased my self confidence. If not because I had wiped out my savings and my parents had threatened to disown me, I would’ve gone for bust enhancement too. I had wanted to go from a B-cup to a C.

I met Tim (again another name) at a friend’s party in Sentosa. He had just returned from the States, doing chemicals research.

We hit it off almost straight away. Despite the nerdy nature of his job, he was quite a biker, and I always remember our rides around Singapore in the silence of the night, esp on weekends. It was a whirlwind romance, and I did not hesitate when he proposed 1 year later, at Changi beach park as we were gazing at the stars. I did not tell him about my makeover. Why was it impt? He had fallen in love with the new me, and that’s all it mattered. Many of my friends also had secrets or history which they hid from their other halves.

We registered our marriage in Singapore, and flew to the States for a simple banquet with his dad, step mom, sister and several close friends. Over here, my parents organized a small reception for close relatives, as they were too scared that people will notice my new looks. I could tell at the reception that my grandmum and some other female relatives were shocked/puzzled to see the new me, but chose to respect the occasion and did not ask anything. In private, I was sure they would ask my parents this and that. It did not matter to me. I had found the new me, and through it, had found the love of my life. An exciting new chapter of my life was beginning.

We settled down in Singapore and rented an apartment. In terms of having a baby, we let nature take its course, but were still surprised when I got pregnant. Sarah was born in Nov 2016, just 2 days before my birthday. As my relationship with my parents has been strained ever since my makeover, I quit my job to care for Sarah full time. It helped that Tim’s step mom flew down for a period to help with Sarah (thanksie step mom! How many step moms would actually do that?).

We finally got our own apartment and slowly, I settled in to my role as a full time mother. Tim is a believer in home schooling, and we agreed that we would only send Sarah to preschool when she’s 4 or 5 years old.

Things were chiming along pretty well. We would head to the States every 6 months or so to visit Tim’s family and for vacation. Sarah was growing up into an adorable sweetie pixie, who likes to pull at my hair (luckily not my nose!). My scars had healed pretty well, but I take care to avoid knocks or any form of trauma to my face. As Sarah grew up, I realize she started to look like the old me, esp the roundish facial contours and slightly V-chin. And for the first time, I felt a pang of guilt for having the makeover. Guilt that while heaven had blessed Sarah with such a beautiful face, she could not look like her mother. And for the first time, I started to understand why my parents had objected so strongly to my makeover. I don’t think Tim notice anything amiss. He was still the doting, hardworking dad and husband.

That was, until Sarah’s 3rd birthday last year. We had brought her out to pororo park to celebrate. That night, after we had put her to bed, and I was doing my manicure, he suddenly looked up from his laptop and said: “You know, I think that she doesn’t look like you or me at all.” I was so taken aback that I dropped my brush. I guessed my reaction only made things worse. Tim has always been an emotional person, but he’s not the expressive type and generally manages his feelings well. However, at that instant, I thought I could see some doubt or hurt in his eyes. He had caught me off guard, and my head was in a spin, trying to second guess his reason for saying this and figure out a reply at the same time. “love, lotsa kids don’t look like their mums and dads” was all I could say.

But the semi-desperation of my voice and the unconvinced and hurt look on his face told me this was not going to go away easily. “are you hiding anything from me?” was all he said next. “Why are you asking this out of nowhere?”, at the risk of waking Sarah up, I tried to sound angry, to hide my panic. Equally, I was hurt that he didn’t trust me. But I didn’t really blame him. Turned out some of his friends and colleagues had commented that Sarah did not resemble either of us, and some geneticist friend of his in the States had told him that paternal genes are stronger than maternal genes, and first-born daughters usually look like the father more. Sarah does not look like either him or me, and this caused doubts in him on whether he was really her father. That night, for the first time in our marriage, we slept in separate rooms. And tried as I could to hide it, I’m not sure whether he heard my sobs.

Things are not the same now. He started to drown himself in work to avoid me and Sarah, even going back to the office on weekends. I have to think of all sorts of reasons to explain to Sarah why daddy cannot join our weekend outings for the time being. It hurts me so much to see him like this, and even more so that Sarah has become collateral damage. To prove that Sarah is his flesh and blood, I suggested a DNA test, but he has so far refused. I know what he’s thinking. He’s feeling conflicted and guilty that on one hand while he has damaged the trust between us, on the other hand he wants to repair that trust, and did not want to damage it further by doing a DNA test which will show that he could not trust me w/o it.

I know what a lot of you must be thinking. Why don’t I just confess to him about my makeover? What will he think of me if I tell him now? Can he accept that the new me is actually not the real me, and that I’ve been hiding this from him all these yrs? This will be as big a blow to him as if Sarah is really not his daughter, I’m sure. Right now I’m torn, and I really don’t know what to do. There’s no one to tell, and Sarah is my only comfort now. Seeing her now and how she looks like the old me, my guilt has only gotten worse. I thought I had started the perfect next chapter of my life, but my past has caught up with me. I often find myself thinking, if I had not gone for the makeover, would I still have gotten together with Tim? Is it worth it now?