Last week I had surgery on my boobs — for the 3rd time.
Almost 6 years ago, I was unhappy with my breasts. They somehow became deflated, whether it was from the years of yo-yo dieting or age or I don’t know what. But I began to lack confidence in that area and frankly was just tired of “setting them up” with the right bras, clothes etc. I wanted pretty perky boobs and I was willing to pay for them.
And I certainly paid for them.
I told my first surgeon that I wanted my breasts to be full, perky and preferable a large C or a small D. As most doctors will tell you, they can’t guarantee a cup size before surgery and like any normal chick knows that sometimes in different brands, you are different sizes. Fine. Whatever. He knew what I wanted.
Post surgery is a weird time, because you think you’re happy. My boobs seemed a little large but they were super perky so I took that as a win. It was only after the 3 month mark when the swelling has faded and the breasts settled, did I think to myself, “This isn’t what I wanted.” My breasts had dropped considerably and when I had a bra fitting I was a 34DDD. They were no longer perky, just big, heavy boobs. I went back to my surgeon to discuss and he told me they looked beautiful and that to achieve what I wanted I would now need a lift.
Hindsight, I think if he had told me I needed a lift and only a lift off the bat, I’d have loved the results. Instead he put the biggest implant in possible, just short of me falling over, and called it a day.
I spent about 4 years trying to be happy with them, but I was basically miserable. Finally a year and a half ago I went for a consult with a new surgeon. He told me I absolutely needed a lift. I agreed and told him I wanted them smaller. Significantly smaller.
Post surgery I was like, okay what the fuck. I didn’t have a fairy-tale post op period as I could tell they were still pretty big and thanks to the lift a decent amount of perkiness remained. I flashed back to one of our conversations where he said, “I think once you see how the lift looks you won’t want them smaller.” And I replied, “I definitely want them smaller.” He might have winked at me and said, “Okay, I’ll make them a little smaller.”
PSA: 30cc is an insignificant amount in the implant world.
Again, I tried to embrace them. Now a 34DD but still feeling like I was wearing something that belonged to someone else. I wasn’t miserable anymore, just annoyed.
This is not my body.
A few months ago, filled with fear, I went to another surgeon. My most recent surgeon had moved so I went to one of his colleagues at the same practice. I had not one but two consultations with him to ensure he knew what I wanted. I told the nurses and the anesthesiologist in the room as they prepped me for surgery. And as my surgeon drew on me with marker just minutes before I went under, I reiterated to him what I wanted.
I did not want to close my eyes a third time without everyone on the planet being on the same page as me.
3 days post op and due to the pain, the bandages and probably a bit of dysmorphia – I couldn’t tell a difference. I knew I needed some perspective. So I got out of bed a loosely tried on one of my favorite dresses from my store, that had made my breasts look borderline inappropriate before. As I tied the front, I noticed it felt very open and like my boobs were on full display. Then I snapped a picture to compare the last time I tried it on.
Words can not possibly express the joy I feel when comparing these photos. The few people I’ve shown seem shocked. Yes, it’s a dramatic change but what I think most people don’t realize is, I never wanted to be “the girl with the big boobs” and I never felt comfortable as her. As big as my personality can be, I don’t feel like my boobs matched how I felt on the inside. All I wanted was a perky confidence boost that resulted in almost 6 years in a body that didn’t feel like mine.
So while I have a few months to go before they settle and I figure out what size I am and how they really look without the swelling– I am so, so happy I did this.
Of course it’s hard not to be frustrated about the past and things I can no longer change. Because I wonder if I had found fitness like 8 months or so before my first surgery if I even would have wanted it. I can’t help but think I wouldn’t have.
Our journeys and our mistakes make us who we are. There are plenty about our lives I’m sure we all wish we could do over, do differently or not at all. But we can’t and wanting it won’t make it so. So we must accept all these things. The good, the bad, the time that feels inexplicably wasted. And we have to live for who we are now and the person we want to become. We have the power to create and recreate who we are, and do better and better. Whether it be physically, mentally, or emotionally. That power is ours. And so this year it is my mission to truly feel as though I am living and being my best self. That is what I am working towards. I hope you are too.