When I was 16 I had magic boobs. They were amazing,
perfect orbs. No one told me they were like puppies
that only stay that cute for a little while or I would
have taken more pictures of them. It has been all down
hill since then.
Don’t worry, There are plenty of great things about downhill boobs. Mine became so preposterously huge and inflated that they became the topic of most every conversation.They had their own orbit, and magnetic pull. Eyes were drawn to them. All eyes. Elbows were drawn to them. Breakable vases were drawn to them. Every sauce imaginable was drawn to them. I sometimes found ketchup stains on my boobs from other peoples hamburgers. That is how intrusive they were. All up in your conversation, all over your lap…even when you were across the room.
My boobs arrived at parties several minutes before the rest of me.
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| “Oh! ED’s Here” |
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So they were lot’s of fun. I liked them. Other people liked them. I could hide things under them, I could lick them if I wanted to, I could rest them on a bar and get free drinks. What’s not to love? When my hands started going numb they became a problem. I had grooves in my shoulders from where my scaffolding had dug in. Some people have bras..I had scaffolding. An engineered contraption of pulleys and space aged material kept my boobs from flying out of control and knocking groceries off shelves. I can’t even tell you what bra size I wore. They had to be made special or ordered off the internet I was half way down the alphabet. Maybe an H? J? who knows. They never fit.
Once, I did the wheelbarrow pose in yoga class, and almost died.
I was completely suffocated under my own boobs and they were so heavy I couldn’t roll myself back down again. That’s when I called my insurance company to see if they would cover the surgery. They told me what hoops I had to jump thru and I complied.
If you are interested in the hoops, I had to have doctors notes, therapeutic treatments, front, side and three quarter pictures taken of my naked breasts. I had to show proof of bra wearing. Which is hilarious because I couldn’t even walk without a bra. I would take my bra off and get a strike at the bowling alley across town. Proof of bra wearing, pshhhhh… insurance companies. I took hostage pictures of me in my bra holding daily newspapers and I was finally approved for surgery.
Choose the right surgeon. What an education. I don’t know what I was expecting? Like maybe a magic fairy wand that shrunk boobs? No…This shit is frankensteinian. I did a lot of research and I met with a lot of surgeons. And I looked at A LOT of boobs. And I cried. And I had second thoughts. I didn’t like the pictures of tiny boobs with misshapen pepperonis. Finally I found a Doctor that seemed just right, She told me that my Breasts were so big that there was enough room to do a pillow type situation instead of the more typical T scar. She also said she would keep my nipple attached to the blood supply and just refine and move it. That I would still have sensation. Other Doctors had told me the nipple would need to be completely removed and then reapplied like a postage stamp for decorative purposes, but it would be a non functioning nipple. THIS is why shopping around is important.
Prepare for worst.
Even tho I had finally found the perfect doctor, who assured this hypochondriacle heart that everything was gonna be fine. I still latched onto that small statistic of people who do suffer nipple loss. I couldn’t get it out of my head. Could I live knowing that I had voluntarily cut off my own nipple? This is what worked for me in coming to grips with that possibility. Tattoos. Once I had a clear plan of action should my nipples fall off, I felt better about the whole thing.
Here are a few of my “nipple tattoos if I lose my nipple” ideas, you are welcome to use em. Fried eggs, of course. Eyeballs where your nipples should be are great for staring contests. A glorious treasure chest, or just tattoo up your actual “fun bags” with carnival polka dots .
A Drastic Improvement! I discovered a lot about myself during the process of getting a breast reduction, speaking of tattoos, I found one that I had completely forgotten about, under my giant boob.
I also discovered that it doesn’t really matter. That people don’t like you more or less cause your boobs are one size or another, no one really cares….that’s pretty shocking, when your identity is interwoven with a body part, and then you change a body part and everything stays the same. It made me realize that all of my body parts, gigantic or miniscule have so little to do with my actual character that its almost snooze worthy. People probably learn this in kindergarten. I had to have almost 12 pounds of boob removed to be certain that it doesn’t matter how big my boobs are.
I also discovered that there is like a two foot diameter of space around my shins that I had no idea was there. I haven’t walked into a planter or the corner of a coffee table since my surgery 5 years ago.
Things No One Tells You.
I am not sure what they do to you in surgery. I think maybe they hang you by a bar from your arms. I never asked but when I woke up I was certain my arms were broken. I mean they hurt BAD. Like worse than anything.
It felt like the bones in my arms had been removed, broken, reinserted and then stomped on. Not to go on and on about it. But I couldn’t believe no one told me how bad my arms would hurt.
Scars. I was expecting scars. I didn’t know they would go all the way around my side. I wasn’t expecting them to keloid, which is an exuberant formation of scar tissue that sometimes happens. This makes some of the scar tissue really thick, like a rope, and kind of irritable. I also had scars from where they put drain tubes in. I am very aware of my scars, but not in a self conscious embarrassed way. I fully expect that someday someone will gently caress them with loving fingertips and whisper something along the lines of ” I love how you are pieced together”
The very worst thing that happened. I mentioned that I didn’t have the typical “T” style incision, I had this other thing where all of the incisions were underneath and around the nipple. The nipple healed perfectly. The incisions underneath…not so much. Maybe from all the laughing I did while on pain medicine? or maybe from being so big or maybe just the bizarre nature of the universe. The incisions under my breast opened up leaving raw breast meat exposed. That part healed different then all the rest and the scars look like soft coffee stains.
Now, I’m not saying I’m the toughest mother effer on the block….but I did walk around with completely severed gaping breast wounds for weeks. So you probably don’t want to mess with me.
Would I do it all again? I love that I can run better, and see better and sleep better. I’m still a big woman, but I can buy a big bra off the rack. I can even buy a pretty one!
Do they work? I have no idea what other peoples breast sensitivity is like, I like mine, they work sort of. Sometimes they misfire? Sometimes I’ll be walking around and just one of my nipples is randomly hard, sometimes I want it to be hard…to like impress someone, and it won’t perform, and I am just so glad I don’t have a penis cause that is stressful. I have enough feeling in them to be grateful, but it is not exactly the same as it was. Is that too much information? If you are considering a breast reduction you want to know. This is not a subject to be modest about. If you are not considering a breast reduction and you kept reading after “Frankensteinian” I’m more worried about you than me.
What I miss. I miss asking random friends and strangers to stand behind me and hold my boobs up, just for a second, just to give my back a break. Man that was a great ice breaker.
The most amazing things! You have no idea how great it is to read a book for the first time after a breast reduction. You can stick your nose right in there. It’s glorious.
I have drawn the conclusion that a breast reduction is every bit as psychological in nature as it is physical. It deals with sexuality and attractiveness, emotional stability and social standards in a way that a knee or hip surgery doesn’t.
I thought if my boobs were smaller I could exercise better and lose this extra weight that I like to haul around, and I have done that several times…But I keep finding it again, I’m very loyal to my body fat. So I would say, don’t get a breast reduction just because you think it will help you lose weight.
I also thought if I got a breast reduction, my husband would find me more attractive. We divorced shortly after the surgery. ( I don’t think we divorced because of my boobs tho)
The oppertunity to date with weird boobs is a wonderful blessing because you can quickly weed out unsavory boob fetishists from people who genuinely care. So I would say if you are getting a breast reduction to please another person, don’t do that.
I also thought that I would be happier. That the world would be rainbows if I got a breast reduction. But a new thing, or a changed thing, or the absence of an old thing really doesn’t bring happiness. Only you can do that, and circumstance isn’t as important as outlook. The theme of these past few breast reduced years, is that I choose how I think, and those choices either raise me up or or hold me down.
If your back hurts and your shoulders are coming a part and your fingers are numb and you can’t move the way you want. Think carefully, research exhaustively, plan well for your recovery. I am glad I had it done, I like that it is a part of me. I like the story my scars tell and I like not having to worry about them anymore. Now I have room to worry about so many other things!
