For the past seven years, I've sported an ear that was indistinguishable from Thumbelina's vagina.
It felt vulgar and outrageous to have my genital-esque lobe on show, like having a tiny penis dangling from my chin or a bijou pair of chesticles heaving suggestively on the end of my nose.
In the absence of Lilliputian knickers or diminutive fig leaves, I'd wear my hair down, to conceal my pornographic lughole and avoid aural sex with Tom Thumb.
My horribly X-rated ear came about while sprucing myself for a night out. I made the rookie error of popping in earrings - which had the subtlety and restraint of The Phantom of the Opera's crashing chandelier - before aggressively combing the knots out of my newly-washed barnet.
After swiping my brush, I noticed a thick, scarlet line of blood streaking down the length of my hair - when I gingerly pulled it to one side, I realised the brush had torn my earring right through the flesh.
Because I'm an arse of the fleshiest kind, I didn't bother going to hospital for stitches and instead let it heal into a lewd shape. Nearly a decade went by and I never got around to fixing it, not even for my wedding, instead wearing clip-ons and cunningly having my hair styled to conceal it.
My sister recently bought me an immense pair of "mink penis" earrings, but it would have looked like a hideous bestial act if her cock bling penetrated my beaver-lobe. So I finally resolved to get it fixed, so that I could proudly wear earrings and bare my head-handles once more.
Intriguingly, one of the UK's fastest-growing cosmetic procedures is earlobe repair, as a result of earring tearing - like mine - or stretching from flesh tunnels. And it's eye-watering how much they can stretch - the record holder for the largest flesh tunnels belongs to Hawaiian chappie Kala Kaiwa, at more than 10cm in diameter, which is big enough for a fist.
I was impossibly chuffed to nab an appointment with cosmetic surgeon Adrian Richards, a clinical director at Aurora Clinics, who has pioneered an extraordinary technique to repair lobes.
My split lobe repair came to £450, while reconstructive surgery on a pair of stretched earlobes would set you back £1250 if they're under 20mm and £1,800 if they're over.
It took less than half an hour under local anaesthetic. And they said I could choose any music that tickled my pickles, to blast across the operating theatre during the procedure. I was sorely tempted to request Benny Hill's theme tune, as a comedic accompaniment to Adrian and the nurses tottering around the room; or the piercing shower scene music from Psycho, when Adrian unleashed his knife, or perhaps a spot of Tubular Bells, for a more brooding and haunting surgical experience.
Since my ear was at the heart of the action, I had the curious experience of hearing - with alarming clarity - the knife carving my lobe into shape and could smell my burning flesh from the cauterisation and see the smoke rise up across my cheek.
Afterwards, they excitedly asked me shut my eyes as they led me to a mirror for the big reveal of my shiny, new ear. And words haven't been invented to describe how impressed I was.
Adrian and the nurse duo were all so perpetually jolly, they made Santa look like Sylvia Plath and now I understand why - it must be an extraordinary feeling to have a huge, positive effect on people, through such intensely personal and clever procedures.
One of their clients was a singer in a punk band, who was able to become a teacher after the Aurora chappies fixed his ears; another was a golf professional who was only allowed to join the PGA (Professional Golf Association) after they'd removed his flesh tunnels, and another avoided discharge from the army, thanks to their reconstructive surgery on his stretched lobes.
We all choose an image that we're comfortable with and use artificial means to create it, from scenting ourselves with perfume, to enhancing features with make-up; dying our hair; wearing control underwear; shaving; painting our nails or making ourselves taller with heels - these could all be regarded as costly, addictive, fake actions which reinforce narcissistic values. But curiously, these criticisms are generally only levelled at surgical procedures.
I find it extraordinary that the same liberal thinkers who regard tattoos and piercings as artistic forms of self-expression, are frequently disgusted by cosmetic or plastic surgery.
There is no argument fired at these procedures, which can't be directed back at the challenger, for their use of toiletries/cosmetics/clothing etc.
And as long as it doesn't get out-of-hand, leaving people looking like they've had a face-lift using a Dyson, plastic/cosmetic surgery (no matter how big or minor) can have a powerful effect on confidence, well-being and quality of life.
If you've got a strong constitution; don't mind watching tiny vaginas being sliced off and are partial to a spot of gore, you can watch Aurora's illuminating video of my earlobe surgery and the impressively speedy transformation here.