I wanted leg-lengthening surgery and muscle implants to look like The Rock. The cost and side effects weren't worth it.

• I've always felt self-conscious about being short and dreamed of looking like The Rock.
• I thought limb lengthening and muscle implants would boost my confidence.

As a big fan of the WWE, I often dreamed of looking like The Rock and Dave Bautista. But I was only 5-foot-4, and despite hitting the gym, I couldn't achieve the kind of body I desired.

Distraught, I turned to leg-lengthening surgery and muscle implants. But I wondered whether these cosmetic procedures were truly the answer to finding self-love.

I always wanted to be taller

Growing up in an Irish Italian family where the men averaged 5-foot-8, I never expected to be a giant. Yet I hated that my friends towered over me, and I was never tall enough to get on the rides at the county fair. My parents urged patience, but when I turned 10 and was still shorter than most second graders, all three of us started freaking out.

Concerned that my battle with leukemia had stunted my growth, we turned to an endocrinologist.

"You'll always be shorter than average," he said coldly.

Crushed, I was determined to prove him wrong. I drank loads of milk and tried various stretches, but I came up, well, short.

I dreamed of looking like a professional wrestler

I've loved the WWE since I was 5 and used to watch it with my grandfather from the arm of his La-Z-Boy. In my 20s, I preserved our tradition by getting together with my friends to watch "Monday Night Raw." One night during the show, my best friend boasted, "I'm almost big enough to take on The Rock."

"I'd love to wrestle him, too," I said.

"You don't have the size," he replied. "You can be my manager."

My heart sank. I knew a WWE career wasn't a reality for either of us, but did my height have to exclude me from the fantasy, too?

I turned to plastic surgery to achieve my dreams

Despite dreaming of looking like The Rock, I didn't build ripped abs or big muscles. Plus, there wasn't much I could do about my height on my own. Around my friends, who did have perfect bodies, I perpetually felt like a boy in a hypermanly world. Distraught, I turned to plastic surgery.

I started by exploring a leg-lengthening procedure. It was described as noninvasive, but when I learned they'd cut bones in my legs and insert metal rods (that would help develop new bone growth), I cringed. The process would be a slow burn: The new bones would grow about 1 millimeter a day. I'd also need physical therapy and frequent X-rays. For all this effort, I'd get 2 to 3 inches taller.

I didn't love the possible complications, which included infections, nerve damage, and even a fatal embolism. Even scarier was the price: about $100,000, which my insurance wouldn't cover. Still, a big boost to my self-confidence seemed worth the cost and the risks. I started saving money and working multiple jobs, including selling knives door-to-door. After two years, I still didn't have enough.

"It's for the best," a friend told me. "Your body already went through hell with leukemia. Why tempt fate?"

They had a point, but I was more concerned with tempting men by getting a better body. I explored pectoral implants, which involved a simple two-hour procedure that didn't mention death as a possible side effect and came with just six weeks of recovery time. The price was still hefty, about $8,000, but far more attainable.

I wanted to go for it but then went down the rabbit hole of other things I hated about my body. A tummy tuck, bicep implants, and covering the cancer scar on my chest all sounded good. Suddenly, I felt worse about myself than I ever had.

2 men unexpectedly helped me change my outlook

As I debated plastic surgery, a wrestler named Rey Mysterio hit the scene. A 5-foot-6 masked luchador, Mysterio used his agility to overcome much-bigger opponents. I knew it was all scripted, but I was grateful to see someone my size become the WWE world champion and one of its biggest stars.

Then I started dating a charming health professor. He was just a few inches taller than me but carried himself with far more confidence. Being with him was comforting and inspiring. He never wanted me to look like anyone but myself, which helped me veer away from plastic surgery and focus on finding self-love.

As that endocrinologist pointed out, I'll always be shorter than average. But at this stage of my life, now happily married and finally feeling OK with my body, I no longer feel small.