I wish I knew that I should have been documenting my transformation with high-quality photos from the start.
The Missing “Before”
When I started my transformation, I was so focused on the “after” that I neglected to properly document the “before.” I have a few blurry, low-quality photos, but nothing that truly captures the starting point. I wish I had hired a professional photographer for a simple, one-hour session before my first procedure. Having a high-quality “before” photo isn’t just for my own records; it’s the most powerful tool for showcasing the dramatic scale of my transformation. It’s the ultimate proof of the work, and I can never get that data point back.
I wish I knew how to leverage my “new face” to enter completely different social circles when I was starting out.
The Key I Didn’t Know How to Use
After my first major surgery, I had a “new face,” but I kept hanging out with the same old friends in the same old bars. I had been given a key to a new world, but I didn’t know which doors to try. I wish I had known then to immediately start targeting high-status events—charity galas, art gallery openings, exclusive industry parties. My new appearance was a powerful first-impression tool, but I wasted its initial impact by using it in places where everyone already knew the “old” me.
I wish I knew that my old friends might resent my transformation when I first started my journey.
The Crabs in the Bucket
I thought my friends would be happy for me when I started investing in my appearance. I was wrong. I wish I had been prepared for the subtle jealousy and passive-aggressive comments. They were comfortable with me as their equal. The moment I started to surpass them, both in looks and in the new opportunities that came with them, the “crab in a bucket” mentality emerged. They tried to pull me back down. Knowing this would happen would have saved me a lot of heartache.
I wish I knew that dating would become a completely different game and that I should have aimed higher, sooner.
Playing in the Minor Leagues
Before my transformation, I was dating on a certain “level.” After my procedures, I kept dating on that same level out of habit. I wish I had understood immediately that I was now playing in a completely different league. The quality and caliber of women who were suddenly interested in me was shocking. I wasted a year or two dating people who were no longer my “looksmatch” because I hadn’t updated my own perception of my market value. I should have started aiming for the top tier from day one.
I wish I knew the importance of creating an aura of mystery and success around my new look.
The Over-Sharer
When people noticed my changes, I was too open. I would explain every procedure, every detail. I was an open book. I wish I had cultivated an aura of mystery instead. When asked what was different, I should have just smiled and said, “I’ve just been taking really good care of myself.” This ambiguity is powerful. It makes people wonder. It makes you seem like someone who just naturally possesses these elite qualities, which is far more intriguing than admitting you simply bought them.
I wish I knew that I should have upgraded my wardrobe and grooming at the same time as my first procedure.
The Unfinished Masterpiece
I spent a fortune on a new jawline but kept wearing the same old band t-shirts and ill-fitting jeans. I had a masterpiece of a face sitting on top of a messy, unfinished canvas. I wish I had budgeted for a full wardrobe overhaul from the start. The impact of your surgical results is muted if your style doesn’t match your new aesthetic. A sharp new haircut, tailored clothing, and a signature fragrance are the essential finishing touches that complete the transformation and announce your arrival.
I wish I knew that being “intimidatingly attractive” was a powerful social tool when I was trying to be “approachable.”
The Power of Being Unapproachable
I used to think that being “approachable” and “friendly” was the key to social success. After my transformation, I noticed some people seemed “intimidated” by me, and my first instinct was to try and put them at ease. I wish I had understood the power of that intimidation. It’s a natural filter. It weeds out the insecure and makes high-status, confident people see you as their equal. I spent too long trying to be likable when I should have been embracing being respected.
I wish I knew that I should have deleted all my old, “before” pictures from social media immediately.
The Ghost in the Machine
I left all my old photos up on my social media after my surgeries, thinking it showed my “journey.” I wish I had known this was a mistake. Those old pictures created a confusing brand identity and allowed new people to see the “old” me, weakening the impact of my new appearance. I should have done a complete digital purge, deleting every trace of my unoptimized self. Your new reality should be the only reality people can see.
I wish I knew how to handle the new type of attention I would get when I started seeing results.
The Unprepared Victor
I wasn’t prepared for the sheer volume and intensity of the new attention I received. It was flattering at first, but it quickly became overwhelming. I didn’t know how to politely decline unwanted advances or how to navigate the new social dynamics where people were suddenly treating me very differently. I wish I had mentally prepared myself for this, to have a strategy for managing the new social power I had acquired instead of being caught off guard by it.
I wish I knew that my social strategy should have been as meticulously planned as my surgical strategy.
The Afterthought
I spent a year meticulously planning every detail of my surgeries—the doctors, the finances, the recovery. But I spent zero time planning what I would do after. My social strategy was an afterthought. I wish I had planned my social re-launch with the same precision. I should have had a list of target events to attend, people to connect with, and a new personal brand to project. The surgery is just the key; you need a plan for which doors you’re going to unlock with it.