The Story Behind Snatched and Swollen: Why I Wrote the Plastic Surgery Recovery Book I Wish Every Woman Had
You booked the surgery. You researched the surgeon, saved the before-and-afters, and counted down the days. Then you came home swollen, sore, strapped into a faja, and googling "is this normal?" at 2 a.m.
Nobody prepared you for the recovery. ¡Dios mío! (oh my God!)
That's exactly why I wrote Snatched and Swollen. Ven, amiga (come here, friend), let me tell you how it happened.
It started with the women on my table
I've spent 20 years helping women heal, and for most of those years I've specialized in lymphatic drainage and scar tissue work after surgery. I didn't fall in love with the scalpel. I fell in love with the women lying on my table: brave, swollen, scared, and doing their best to heal.
Plastic surgery was already booming in 2018 and 2019. Then 2020 hit, and it went through the roof.
I know it sounds backwards. But think about it: so many women were suddenly home, out of work or working remotely, some living on unemployment and stimulus checks, and nobody was going to see them for months. No office, no parties, no one asking questions. It was the perfect time to recover privately.
And here's what most people didn't realize: surgery is medical, so the surgery centers never closed to begin with. While everyone else was baking sourdough, working on their skincare, and learning to make candles, the plastic surgery industry was busier than ever.
My phone didn't stop ringing. But massage was shut down, and I couldn't touch anyone. And when women asked their surgical teams for help, many were told to "find lymphatic drainage" with no guidance, no vetting, and no safety rails.
So they turned to the internet.
What I call the "recovery culture"
Online, I found something beautiful and something dangerous at the same time.
The beautiful part was the sisterhood: women sharing advice, cheering each other on, and feeling less alone.
The dangerous part was the echo chamber. Women were being talked into brutal, tissue-damaging "drainage," wood therapy on fresh surgical wounds, dangerously tight garments, and even procedures done in hotel rooms. I heard the same heartbreaking sentence over and over: "If I had known it would be this hard to find real answers, I never would have done this."
I couldn't stay quiet anymore.
From sticky notes to a book
It started small: tips and resources on sticky notes that I handed to my local clients. Then the sticky notes turned into handouts. Then the handouts turned into pages upon pages of recovery advice. That's when I realized my paper and ink were getting expensive. 😂
So I did what made sense: I turned it into a book. Along the way came virtual compression consults, late-night workshops, and an online community that grew to over 10,000 members in its first eight months.
That proved what I already knew. Women were hungry for the truth, from someone with real clinical training and hands-on experience, not a filtered influencer pretending she bounced out of the OR snatched overnight.
The book I couldn't find
The few recovery books I found online were either all technical or way too basic. Some read like a medical textbook. Others barely scratched the surface. None of them explained things in plain, everyday language while still giving you the real information.
I wanted to write the book I wished my clients had: not just facts, but logic, strategy, empathy, humor, and sisterhood. The kind of book that feels like your bestie who happens to know a lot about recovery is sitting on the edge of your bed, telling you the truth.
Why I rewrote it
The first version of this book was called Recovery Culture. I wrote it for my clients.
But I knew it could be so much more. So I took it apart and rebuilt it from the ground up, with deeper science, more real stories, and the cultural context I couldn't stop thinking about: why recovery looks so different from Miami to Mexico to Sacramento, the traditions our moms and abuelitas (grandmas) passed down, and the online recovery culture that shapes what so many women believe about healing. And a lot more sazón (flavor).
That brand-new edition is Snatched and Swollen, and it's a much better book.
Because it's brand new, it's still waiting on its first reviews. If you read it, a quick review on Amazon would mean the world to me, and it helps the next woman find it when she needs it most. 🩵
What's inside
Snatched and Swollen is the honest, humorous, science-backed guide to healing after lipo, BBL, and tummy tuck, whether you have surgery at home or abroad. Inside, you'll learn:
How to vet your surgeon before you trust them with your body
What's normal, what's weird, and what's a job for your surgeon or the ER
What actually helps swelling and fibrosis, and which "treatments" to run from
What to do when you come home from surgery abroad and can't find post-op support
How to protect your peace and your dignity, even on the days you need help getting to the toilet
And above all, the one truth I want every woman to hold onto: your body was designed to heal. You don't need to bully it, torture it, or starve it. You need safety, smart care, and grace.
Here's your chisme for today: read the book before your surgery date, not after. Créeme (believe me), it's so much easier to prep your home, your shopping list, and your support people when you're not swollen and on pain meds.
Who this book is for
Women planning lipo, a BBL, or a tummy tuck
Women in the thick of recovery right now
Women who had surgery abroad and came home to no support
Partners, moms, sisters, and friends who want to know how to help
Ready for hands-on help?
If you're in Sacramento, I'd love to care for you in person. Post-op lymphatic drainage and scar tissue release are highly recommended to help you heal comfortably.
I'm a Certified Massage Therapist (CAMTC No. 39170), not a doctor. This post is for education, not medical advice. Always follow your surgeon's instructions. As an Amazon Associate I earn from qualifying purchases.
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