Nipped, Tucked & Talking
For years, says Sharon Osbourne, "I made fun of the ladies who were nipped, tucked and pulled. That is, until I joined the club. Now I've got my membership; I'm not going to let it expire." Osbourne, 50, discussed her many procedures with PEOPLE.
For me, if something bothers you about your appearance, just get it changed. If you're lucky enough to be in a position to afford it, if it makes you feel better about yourself, go for it. You're not hurting anyone.
I've had to space all my surgeries – otherwise I'd be in shock. I started with a full face-lift. When I went in to talk about it, I was totally freaked out. I requested that they not tell me all the details of the procedure.
It hurt like a mother. If anybody says their face-lift doesn't hurt they're lying. It was like I'd spent the night with an ax murderer. They take your ears off and put them back on! It took about two weeks for me to function properly. I didn't look for four days – I was petrified. Finally I thought, "This is ridiculous," and I saw the difference immediately: I didn't have a double chin, and I didn't have my jowls.
In 1999 I lost 125 lbs. after I had gastric bypass surgery. Then I had this big flap of skin that hung over my crotch. Very sexy, let me tell you. So I had a tummy tuck, and they took so much skin off they had to make a new belly button. They also lipo-ed my hips and arms – they took out 8 lbs. of fat. I went from a size 22 to a size 4. I looked like a different person. I never regretted it, but it took me a long time to enjoy it and accept it was the way I looked.
Next year I had a leg-lift. They literally pull your legs up like a stocking. A little while later I had my bum lifted too.
Many years ago, when everyone was having collagen put in their lips, I tried it. I had half a top lip done and I said, "I'm out of here." It was excruciatingly painful. I walked around with half a top lip done, and it took about six weeks for it to get back to normal.
Recently my nipples were pointing south and I wanted them to point north. I called my friend, a surgeon named Leslie Stevens – he's done all my work. I've been there so often I request my own anesthetist. I went into his clinic behind the Peninsula Hotel in Beverly Hills. Loads of people go there and come out with scarves and sunglasses, trying to hide, and I just come bounding out, saying, "Guess what I've had done!" I don't care how good your surgeon is; you can always tell.