Day 8: I left the house... twice : )

Basically, mornings are semi-rough.  I get out of bed, pee, groan because my abs are sore, go into the bathroom and find my med chart, get all the meds I need to take first thing, and head into the kitchen for the good ol' Miralax/OJ and some breakfast.

Once again, the routine of breakfast (and perhaps my body and mind waking up) gets me perked up and rarin' to go.  A good tooth-brushing and face-washing are also necessary... I refuse to let myself be icky for too long, that doesn't make for a happy day.

I slept kind of late today-- Mr. Right laid in bed with me last night and we watched the World Series of Poker final table (which I guess lasted until like 3 am because that's when he finally turned off the tv and went to bed.  I'd been dozing in and out).  Once I had breakfast all laid out, I sat in the dining room chair and watched some "Superstorm Sandy" coverage until I wanted to strangle all the weather commentators, then switched over to HGTV or Bravo or something where people with unlimited budgets decorate stuff.

I sat "up" in my chair for a long time!  A little pillow behind my back was helpful, and I propped my feet up for a while too, but I did it.  I was feeling quite accomplished with myself, and rooted through the closet to see what I could wear with my drains.  (See my previous post about the beach muumuu).  Mr. Right called to see if I wanted him to bring me anything for lunch, but I declined because I was feeling so industrious.  When he got home, we discovered that my son had a football game (middle school B-team kind of football) close to home-- so I decided I'd try out our folding chair and if it worked, go to the game.  VENTURE OUT OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD!



Don't get me wrong, I downed a banana, a vicodin, and a valium before we left for preventive purposes.

Getting in the car was a little challenge, but all was well.  Mr. Right had to close my door for me but I got in, seatbelted, and ready to ride.  The road was by no means super bumpy, but I still felt the need to hold my boobs and belly because there was movement.  Inertia.  It didn't "hurt" but it made me uncomfortable so I held on to them kindly.  My sweetheart dropped me off close to the field then parked the car and met me at our seat destination.  I sat in the folding chair (I should mention that my folding chair is awesome and has a separate folding footrest-- it was a mother's day gift about 5 years ago) and all was well.  I'm pretty sure no one there knew I was sporting fancy surgical drains beneath my sundress!  I wore a gray shrug over the dress to cover the straps of my gray soft-cup bra that I still have to wear "at all times unless I'm showering".

My rig is like this, only the footrest is not attached:

On the way out, I was not walking at record speed, so I kindly stepped aside and let the people behind me pass on the sidewalk.  I gave them the "you go ahead, I'm moving kind of slow right now" and they seemed kind in return and passed me on up.  I sort of felt like I needed one of those orange reflective triangles on my back (like tractors and the Amish buggies have for driving on the road).

Well, we got home, and I wanted to walk some MORE!  I put on some nice capri yoga type pants, attached my drains to where the pockets of the pants would overlap/camouflage them, and put on a "workout" top I'd bought before surgery in hopes it'd fit after.  YEP!  The weather was nice and cool, so we went for a walk (Mr. Right even leashed up the dog, who was freaking BESIDE himself at the mere mention of the word "walk").  Probably a little less than a mile, at a pretty slow pace.

(not actually us... i'm just being really industrious with the picture-adding tonight.  these are people from google-image-search):

As we returned and decided we were hungry, we decided to go OUT OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD AGAIN!  We hit a local Italian place and I sat up in a chair for an entire dinner : )  I even braved the public bathroom-- dressed and with my drains and all.  Complete success.  I figured out how to close my own car door on our departure, and then we went to Target.

I felt like a real girl!  YAY!  It's been like... more than a week since I went to Target.  I was almost having withdrawal.  We only spent $20.  Victory is OURS.

I didn't carry any of the heavy stuff in Target, though (orange juice and chicken salad should be reserved for strong manly men who have noy just undergone breast surgery).  Just the little bag of powdered donuts (I find them fabulous for when you need to take medicine but not on an empty stomach, and you've kind of OD'd on saltines).  I kid!  I didn't buy a bag of powdered donuts.  I bought TWO.

My manicure lady is a super sweetheart and texted to see how I was doing and if I needed anything, so I'm all set for a mani/pedi on Friday.  Maybe I can even drive myself by then!  A girl's gotta have goals.

Tomorrow is my "1-week" appointment with Doc.  I'm anxious to see what he's got to say and see if I'm healing up on par with other people.  Trust me, you'll get an update : )  Ta ta for now, as the wonderful bounce-ful Tigger would say.  Big day tomorrow!  If I'm a good girl at the doctor, Mr. Right is taking me out for Pinkberry afterward.

I hope you've enjoyed my industrious use of pictures.  I'll try and snazz it up for you from now on.

Look! I'm normal!

This is a beach muumuu I like to wear over a swimsuit or whatever.  See the elastic part?  My breasts used to fill that whole entire section (and I still had cleavage), to where I looked like I had no waist.  This is pretty exciting to me!  I know I'm still swollen and won't be the "real" settled in cup size for a while, but this is a pretty neat visual representation for me. I'll try and find a pic of me in this dress before to compare.

One week ago today, right about now... I was waking up in the recovery room!

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today!  It was my first "I'm all alone" day.  People are busy, and they have to go back to work and stuff, so it was me just me today.

I was cold, I needed pain meds, my boobs and my belly both were hurting-- not like "I WANT TO DIE!" pain but just all around uncomfortable, sore, prickly.  This made me mad because I wanted to be all perfect and healing and not need the meds-- but in all honesty it had been more than 12 hours so it's no giant surprise I was having some pain.  Then my beloved Grabber broke, and I was feeling very "harumph" about figuring out how to fix it.  I may have had a little pity party there for a while, right after the cat knocked one of my prescription bottles off the bathroom counter.  That effing cat.  Right after I had broken the grabbing part of my grabber.

Once I figured I really had no choice, I took a step-by-step approach to getting the damned day started. Luckily the cat had chosen to knock my allergy meds off the counter, so it wasn't an emergency that I solve the "how to get that off the floor when you can't bend over" problem.

I needed some pain meds, so I needed to get something in my stomach.  I needed to have my daily morning serving of orange juice + Miralax to keep my innards from getting bound up.  So... OJ, Miralax, a banana, a couple of powdered donuts, and of course a vicodin and a valium.

Then I was having some "I"m too freezing!" and "I am so hot, why did I put on this robe?!?!?" back and forthiness.  I don't know if it's the exertion, the meds, or what but holy cow I just cannot stay in one temperature zone.  I would get in my robe, then have to go to the bathroom (and therefore take the robe off) but be FREEZING because I was just in a bra.  So, I put on a shrug.  Shrug and compression garment.  Yeah baby, that's hot.  I'll have to post a pic of that because it'll be ALL THE RAGE soon.

I came to the conclusion that I just need some sort of fleece fabric sweat-skirt that can be warm, or easily removed for potty time.  They probably have this garment somewhere in the northern areas but what with my being southern... I do not own one.  Hell,  piece of fleece blanket fabric and a binder clip might do the trick.

The shrug was actually a great solution for the upper half.  It doesn't have any strings or get in the way when you are doing bathroom stuff or draining drains... plus hey, it fits so much better now that my boobs are smaller!  VICTORY!

I watered a couple of plants (via pitcher filled from the kitchen sink), played fetch with my dog (repaired grabber = ball throwing to his heart's desire!), texted some friends, and just walked around the house and backyard a lot in general.  I even cleaned up my hot glue gun mess from the earlier repair activity.  Mr. Right will be so proud!  I miss him.

I was also tired of the whole "I can either stand up or lie down, but sitting on the couch or a floofy comfy chair is too hard".  I dragged one of our dining room chairs (the kind from the end of the table with arms) into the living room so I could practice regular sitting, with some structure, yet have the chair arms to steady myself when getting up.  I must tell you, my goal is to get to such point that I can go out to eat, man.  Leave the house, sit amongst regular folk, get up and down without looking like I have drains coming out of me.  I did a little getting up and sitting down.

Sitting down in a chair like that seems to be more comfy with a small pillow pressed up against my tummy.  Whatever works, right?

My sweet friend K came by and brought me lunch, and we talked about tummy tucks and how freaking bad it hurts to get out of bed for the first couple of days.  She had a c-section with her baby, so she could relate.  I don't know which is worse, but I know she got a kid out of the deal.  This stomach better be really, really flat, lol.

After K left, my other friend T came by.  We had planned a little walk, but I was kind of pooped from my burst of stair climbing, house-laps energy after lunch so instead I practiced sitting up in a chair and she dished about her weekend.

Little visits are really great.  They definitely made me feel better, more human today (human as opposed to house-cat).  I feel accomplished in that I woke up, washed up, got myself out of a crappy mood with only a minimal pity party, and managed to light a fire under myself and get smiley.

I can't wait for my husband to get home.  He's so smiley and cute, and I like hugs, and I'm kind of hoping we can veg together and find something fun to watch on tv, or take a little walk through the neighborhood.

All in all I'd say hey, it's been a hard week, but not nearly as hard as I thought it might be.  I didn't think I'd be up all day and climbing to the third story by this time in the surgical timeline.

I keep trying to remind myself that before this surgery, I was perfectly healthy.  I haven't had any major joints replaced, I'm a strong young-ish lady who was fully capable of stuff... so having my skin snipped up and sewn back together is no reason to think I should be set back weeks and weeks from normal function.  I want to keep my blood pumping so it can heal these tissues!

Day 6 Post-Surgery: I Left the house!

So, it's Sunday.  My nursey friend was here Tuesday and Wednesday, which was great.  Thursday, my husband needed to leave the house, so my friend T came over and hung out with me so I wouldn't be alone.  Friday morning, my husband had to work a little while, so my Godmom, D,  was going to come over.  I was alone most of the morning, but it was fine.  D and My hubby both got to the house around the same time, and from the moment D arrived it was like the mother hen had arrived.

No stranger to breast surgery and reconstruction, D's been through a bout with breast cancer.  She's one of the most loving, caring people ever... and she can cook.  I was happy to have her around for girl talk and of course some good home made food!  I wish to the high heavens my mother could have been around to help me through this.  I know it would have made her so happy to be around and do something like this for me, but I know she's here in spirit.

I showered again, and Mr. Right had stopped at the surgeon's office to pick up another compression garment in the right size.  After the shower and the re-gauzing/ointmenting of all my incision places, and Mr. Right and D getting me into this impossible garment-- God Bless them both-- I finally had to just ask for some alone time.  As well as I was doing with walking around the house and stuff, that was just my breaking point.  If you're going through this and you have good help, don't be afraid to pre-empt what could become an embarassing explosive situation... just kindly ask if you can please have some alone time because that whole "loss of control" feeling can hit you when you least expect it.

I sat in front of my vanity on the shower chair (on a towel) squashed into this compression garment that I thought would be the death of me, took some deep breaths, and blew my hair dry.  By the time I got all groomed and feeling like a real person again, it was better.  I believe that was Friday.

More and more, I'm finding that it just takes time and some experimental effort to see how far you can go.

The breast reduction area is not causing me any great amount of pain.  I do feel from time to time like there are little sticks, not quite "pin pricks" but uncomfortable little pokey feelings which I think are the nerves kind of re-establinshing their pathways.  It sort of feels like maybe a bristley hairbrush is poking you on sensitive skin.  My incisions looks to be healing well.

I can't reach up to really high things, or things really far back in the fridge, etc.  If it feels too difficult, I ask for help or I just don't do it until help is available.  I would definitely not feel comfortable caring for small children alone right now-- so if you're thinking about this, absolutely have help on hand 24/7 for a while because you will not be able to care for your babies a week out.

The tummy tuck incision (incisions, because they also moved my belly button) itself is not painful, but my abdominal muscles are still hurting.  Not hurting to where I need to constantly medicate myself, but I can't really sit up straight for more than a few minutes.  Standing can be tiring, but that's mostly how I eat these days-- standing at the bar in my kitchen.  Walking is a "take it slow" activity, as is climbing stairs.

Today was beautiful weather, and I'd found myself needing significantly less pain meds, so I pinned my drains to my bra, put on a warm-up top and some yoga pants, and took the slowest-ever walk around my section of the neighborhood.  It helped assure me that I could walk a little ways (other than the good old living room laps) and cured my cabin fever for a bit.  Me and Aunt D talked most of the time and while I had to go slowly and catch my breath from time to time, I was pretty proud of myself for being up and out and about.  I don't feel like I overdid it.  We took a route where we could easily turn back at any time and head home, but in all, it was about a mile.

After that, I ate lunch and slept like a baby for a few hours...lol.

I've found that I tend to get really hot and really cold quickly-- so having a couple of different robes on hand is a great way to go.  I have a thick fleece long robe for the chilly spurts and a thin cottony pajama robe for when I'm hot but still want to walk in the house without my hoo-ha hanging out.

With the compression garment and tummy/tuck, getting pants on is kind of a production so robes seem to be the way to go.  If I'd only had the breast reduction I'm not sure if pants would be as big of a deal.  Right now I'm down with the easy-on-easy-off business, because when the "I need to get to the bathroom" feeling hits, you really don't want to have to be wrestling with your wardrobe.  easy access is the name of the game.

My first appointment with Doc is Wednesday.  I'm excited for him to look at his work and see how I'm doing.

Mr. Right has to go back to work tomorrow, so I'm a little nervous about being alone in the house, but I'll probably hit up a friend and see if she'll go on a little walk with me, then maybe another one for a lunch visit.  Hopefully all the "let me know what I can do!" people will be able to do the things I need help with : )

OOH.  If I hadn't mentioned it before, my favorite post-surgery accessory other than robes has been the "grabber".  It's a long handle thing on a stick that helps you pick stuff up without bending over.  Freaking PERFECT.  Dropping something on the floor can send you over the edge.  Don't let that happen.  Head on down to Wal-Mart and get yourself a grabber!  You don't have to be 85 years old to utilize this beautiful tool.

Day 4 Post-Surgery

I'm pretty surprised at how quickly I'm able to do some things.  I can get myself into and out of bed, and it no longer hurts my stomach muscles when I clear my throat-- though I still totally can't cough or anything.

I've not had any nausea the past couple of days, and I can slowly feel the swelling going down a tiny bit each day.  I can stand up normally, don't feel like I have to hunch over at all.  When I first get out of bed, it takes a few seconds for me to get straightened up but then I'm good to go.

It seems like I'm either really sleepy or really full of energy.  Sleep has been good the past couple of nights, I think I mentioned before that we have a bed with an adjustable base, so I canelevate my head and knees with remote control.  I had no idea it would be such a great thing to have after surgery!

My pain meds are every 4 hours, and I am still taking them kind of regularly (letting my body dictate when I need them, not taking them like clockwork).  With each dose of Vicodin, I make sure to eat something-- even if it's just a few saltines-- to keep nausea at bay.  The muscle relaxer that's every 8 hours is the same... If I feel it's needed I take it.  If not, I go longer than 8 hours until I'm reaching a point where it's necessary.

The drains aren't nearly as awful as I had imagined!  They're super simple to empty, they don't hurt, they aren't smelly... I guess I just had some really icky misconceptions about how they'd be.  I'm glad they're getting all that fluid out of my abdomen, that's for sure.

I apologize if I've repeated myself from the previous blog.  Lots of days on pain meds paired with the sleep schedule of a toddler means I'm not really retaining a great deal of short term memory.

I can say that at 4 days out from the surgery, I'm having no regrets.  The breast reduction has been pretty easy to deal with.  I don't feel too limited in my range of motion, I can wash/ brush my own hair, wash my face, and puton front-closure tops.  There isn't a lot of noticeable discomfort up top.  My swelling is going down each day, and the nagging back pain is absolutely gone.  Soon I'll be wearing adorable winter clothes... Pea Coats, button front or ruffled tops... Yaaaay!

I am curious to see what pant sizing will be like. I had a tummy tuck, but not a leg or thigh tuck, lol.

I've been getting up and down the stairs a couple of times a day, just to get some energy out of my system and keep my body parts moving.i feel like the key to good healing is plenty of rest, but not letting your range of motion slack.  I'm excited for the time when I can take a little walk around the block : )

First Shower

Well, I didn't want to do it but I took a shower.  I was scared that the soapy water hitting my incisions would hurt!

I had a shower chair in my shower, so I rested my drains on that... I didn't sit on it at all, just stood up and let the water run on me.

It feels goooooood tohave clean hair!

Surgery is done! 2 days post-op.

So, I think it's Wednesday... surgery on Monday took from about 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m.

From my breasts, 3 1/2 pounds of tissue was removed. From my abdominal area, 5 pounds of tissue was removed.

So, a little more than the weight of one of these from each breast:

And about this much from my abdominal area:

Everything went very well, I spent the night in the hospital.  This was a great decision, simply because I was in so much pain and it was nice having a nurse there to tend to my needs (and give me IV drugs).  Peeing was somewhat of a difficulty after I was put in the room.  My bladder simply hadn't woken up-- when you're concentrating on every single muscle, it's hard to relax and go.  I tried drinking a cup of water which was a huge mistake (I"d just had ice chips to this point), because I violently vomited the water 2 minutes after drinking it.  Finally after a couple of tries, we turned on the bathtub water and something finally came out of me.

The most horrible, terrible parts of the hospital experience (where pain is concerned) were:

1. Waking up in recovery and having super, super sore arm muscles that I could barely move.  For the breast surgery, I guess your arms are pretty much laid out sideways for a long time.  Like when you fall asleep with your arm hanging off the couch and then you can't bend it once you wake up-- only 1000 times worse.  I literally had to ask the recovery room nurses to stuff folded blankets under my elbows to get relief.

2. Getting up out of bed.  Oh. My. Sweet. Lord.  This was the most excruciating pain.  I had my husband and the nurse both assisting me, but I felt like every force of nature, gravity, and hell was pulling down on my insides.  The kind of pain you have when you've overdone it with situps or crunches, only magnified and maybe with some fiery hellish feeling added.  I had to hold on to them to walk, and every move--forward, sideways, up, down-- was pure pain.  I needed help to do ANYTHING but lay down.  When I threw up that water, I thought I was going to faint from the pain of the involuntary lurching of those stomach muscles.

I didn't really want to go home from the hospital, mostly because I didn't want to have to get into the truck, I knew that would be difficult.  Absolutely anything concerning movement of abdominal or core muscles is excruciating right now.

My breasts don't really seem to be hurting me much, nor the incision area from the tummy tuck.  It's the middle-inside-muscley part that is ridiculously painful.  I cannot get out of bed by myself (or into it for that matter).

I'm loving the new rack! Even though they won't settle into their real shape for months, It's pretty wonderful already.  I'm very excited for those girls to be healed up.

The drains from the tummy tuck are by far my least favorite accessory.  They look like little clear rubber grenades hanging from my compression garment!  I'm glad they're there, though, because they are draining quite a bit of fluid, which wouldn't feel very good if it was building up inside of my abdomen.  Mine are inserted like the ones on the right side of this diagram:

This is what they look like all on their own.  Part of them is inside you, collecting fluid and "goop" that can build up.  The clear tubing is outside of you, and the bulb is at the end.  This is the part you empty and keep track of... it's got a closure on it kind of like a blow-up pool float.  

You compress the bulb and close the top so that there's as little air as possible in the bulb... that way, there's a kind of passive suction that draws fluid and goo into the bulb and away from your body.  Here's a video where they use happy blue water to demonstrate (you know, like in a maxipad commercial.  They don't want to gross you out by using actual bodily-fluid-goo type stuff).

Mr. Right has been very sweet and helpful.  A close friend of mine who's a nurse also came to stay with me, and she's doing a great job of keeping up with my meds, emptying the drains, just all-around helpful.  I'm really glad she's here.

I am trying to be up and around and walking as much as possible, because I want the healing to happen as soon as it can possibly happen!  When I get up from sitting or lying down, there's a really bad burst of pain through my abs, and I have to walk hunched over for a little while before it feels okay to be walking normally.  The pain is pretty bad, but it dissipates with more movement.

My diet has consisted mostly of popsicles, jello, ginger ale, and saltines.  I did have a little breakfast at the hospital on Tuesday, but had not a lot of appetite.  I shared with Mr. Right.

I'm supposed to be able to shower today.  That seems kind of scary, so I'm putting it off until later.  My hair is a filthy mess but I just really totally don't care.

As I thought it would be, my compression garment/girdle thing is really super sexy.  I'm sure the cherry on top is the tubes coming out of it, and the drains safety pinned right up front, lol.

People keep asking when I'm ready for visitors.  Hmm.  Not yet.  I really don't want to put on clothes (though I'm pretty much covered with this bra and the girdle, which goes down past my knees).

More later : )  For now, Im gonna go take a few more shuffle-walking steps around the house then attempt to get back int bed.

'Twas the night before surgery...

Everybody keeps telling me to get a good night's sleep tonight, which is so sweet and all but it has me wondering... does it matter?  I'm getting knocked out tomorrow at some ungodly hour of the morning, I'll be under anesthesia for like 7-8 hours, and then I'll be on some pretty good pain drugs for a few days.  Will good sleep tonight really do me any favors?

My instincts tell me to just stay up all night and get work done, clean the house, get stuff organized so when I'm home and unable to do anything, it won't bug me...LOL.

I worked yesterday (and in my line of work, I'm up holding heavy equipment, on my feet for 9-10 hours).  When I got home, I was so ready to just CRY of shoulder pain.  It radiated down my left arm this time, too.  I'm glad that yesterday was painful, because for the past few days I've been doing a lot of thinking.

A few months out, even a few weeks out, this whole breast-reduction-tummy-tuck seemed like such a genius amazing idea.  Everyone should be so happy I'm doing this!  Fast forward to the week of the surgery-- when the reality of being cut up and sewn back together creeps up on you-- and your mind goes into panic mode.

It isn't helpful that it's right before halloween, and there are sewn-up creepy looking zombies everywhere.  Oy.

So Thursday and Friday I was kind of calculating in my mind... how much of that money would they give me back if I cancelled?  Is this shoulder pain realllly so bad?  Is this necessary? Would my mom be proud or roll her eyes at me for doing this?

I was getting cold feet, people.

Yesterday's ride home, in the hot-knife-between-shoulders pain, was proof positive that yes, this is the right decision.  Tonight I went to dinner with the family, to Hooter's, for a tongue-in-cheek celebration, my last night as a lady with big hooters.  We sat down at an available table, and my daughter pointed to the paper towel holder on the table.  It's a home-made looking block of wood with a stick, so nothing hugely fancy, but there on all four surfaces of the wood block someone had written in black sharpie, the name Monica, and hearts.

That was my mom's name, and honestly it's not a really popular name where chicks at Hooters are concerned.  So hey, kind of cool, and I feel like it's a cute little sign from her or God or whatever.  I like to think she'll be watching over me.

I'm up getting the last few things done that I need to try and get done before I can't work a while.  Unfortunately there are a couple of things I won't be able to get done unless I stay up all night, but I don't want to do that to Mr. Right.  I want to lay down with him and have a nice cozy night's sleep and be happy and snuggle since I figure that's something that also won't be happening for a while.

Family first.  I do really have a motherly/friendly love for some of my clients, but my husband holds my entire heart in his hands.

Here we go.  If I can post from the hospital tomorrow I might, otherwise you'll hear from me when I'm coherent enough to post.  I apologize in advance if there are any obscenities as I describe my pain, LOL... I'm laughing now, but I'm pretty sure I won't be post-surgery ; )

Say a little prayer for me, and for Doc.  He's probably done this a million times but as someone who's also done my "job" a million times, I know that rough patches and difficulties occur.  If doc hits any snags, I hope he's able to easily pull through and work it out for me.

SIx Days to Surgery!

It's Tuesday.  Surgery is Monday.  LESS THAN A WEEK!

Here are a few things that have been running through my mind, lol...

 I should get a will.  What if I die before the surgery?  What if I get some horrible sickness before the surgery and they can't operate?  OMG I'm so glad my period came this week and not next week-- now I'll have the maximum amount of time to heal before I have to deal with feminine hygeine products.  What am I gonna look like when this is all over?  I hope I don't get an infection.  Oh man, I hope the drains aren't as horrid as I think they'll be.  I need a tray-table for bed.  I hope Mr. Right doesn't hate me halfway through the healing process and get tired of helping me.  Am I getting a fever blister?  NO!  I don't want to have a big crusty lip for the people doing cosmetic surgery on me.

Then there's the non-surgery stuff: 

What all do I need to do for work?  Do we have enough dog food?  Mr. Right will buy the wrong stuff.  Oh and do we have enough cat food?  Should I hire someone to come empty the cat box because Mr. Right absolutely HATES that?  What else do I do that nobody else can humanly possibly do?  I need a pedicure.

Every time I walk by the mirror before I'm showering or getting dressed, I have to kind of pinch around the fat on my stomach and wonder what it'll be like.  Breast size still perplexes me, and at this point I'm so happy to finally be having less-- I'm almost just willing to go lie down and say "whatever you think, Doc."  I won't do that, but the idea of not having to think about it or make a decision is alluring.

Bras.

I keep walking by all those bras in my closet.  They have been great, they've been faithful... but damn, I just absolutely cannot wait to get rid of them.  Especially the evil sports bras that squash me within an inch of my life and taunt me as I try to take them off when I'm sweaty and puffy.  Oh to be able to walk into Target and buy a sports bra.  Any bra for that matter.  Or tops.

I find myself creepin' in the bra section a lot.  Looking.  What sizes are readily available?  What size do I want to be?  Every bra that says "full figure" is like a big blinking "NOOOO!" for me. I do not want to be "full figure" or require "minimizing".  I pick up the 38C bras and see that some have padding for lift and think... what will it be like to be able to even wear a bra with "lift" padding?" Even the thought of being able to purchase a strapless, or one of those "convertible" bras.  Oh wow.  That's big, people!

Possibility of Death.  *Deep Breath*

"Clueless" was on.  Love that movie.  Love Alicia Silverstone and Brittany Murphy, God rest her soul. Love Paul Ruud and the whole rest of the cute little cast.  Cher's mom died in a routine liposuction procedure.  You can watch that movie a million times and laugh at that line... until you're scheduled for plastic surgery the next week!!!!

So, I have an appointment on Thursday to finalize a Last Will, Durable Power of Attorney, and Medical Power of Attorney.  I just wanna be sure that if anything happens, there aren't any questions.  Also, it's just an all-around good idea to have a will on file.  We're in the middle of trying to sell a house, so the Power of Attorney will come in handy if it sells and I can't be around for the document-signing-party.

I feel like I'm being a responsible adult.  So, there.

I will do my best to not want to poke out the eyes of people (work) who want things before I go to surgery.  Oh sure, it hasn't been a priority for 4-6 months and NOW you need it this week?  Honestly, I'm trying.  I want as little as possible hanging over my head while I'm healing.

Just Over a Week Until Surgery... Getting Prepared!

I picked up all the suggested items from the store today, so I'll have them ready, and won't have to worry about pre-surgical preparation while I'm scrambling to get work wrapped up. 
My prescriptions were all ready... I was given a nausea patch to apply the night before surgery, and antibiotics, muscle relaxers, and pain pills.

As for OTC stuff, I got Miralax, which I will start 3 days before surgery and continue until I'm off pain meds... Antibiotic ointment, and mini-pads.  The nurse suggested using these in lieu of gauze over my drain sites (adhesive side will attach to my compression garment).  Then I don't have to worry about any tape irritating my skin.  The drains will be on my tummy for a fee weeks.
Crackers, ginger ale, hello... And a shower chair, check!  A fee simple front-closure pajama tops and robes, check.
I even organized my bathroom closet and linen closet since people other than me might need to find stuff : )

Cup Conundrum

What size do I want to be?  What will it look like?  This is all I could think about since I heard Doc say, "Well, that's a B!"

I can't mentally accept a B cup.  I need real life examples of people with my sort of frame and a B or a C cup.  Some reference, ya know?

Google image search can really be your BFF : )

38C turned up some good stuff...

and the ever so hot to trot

For my next trick, 38B!

Clearly, not as good of a trick.  There were some military planes, some kind of stage lighting, and a naked Argentenian chick.  Clearly, the 38B is not so much of an internet sensation as the 38C.

Let's give good old 38D a try.

For starters, significantly more amateurish porn.  Then some ladies with more breast tissue than I'd like to end up with.  Nothing truly worth posting for educational purposes here.

BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD!

This time, I tried a google search of "celebrities 38c"... which led me to a pretty inclusive list of celebrity ladies and their bra sizes!  Who knew?  Here's the list.

Phoebe Cates?  The perfect rack from Fast Times at Ridgemont High?  B cup, folks.  Farrah Fawcett from the famous orange bathing suit poster?  B cup as well.  Rebecca Demornay, Sharon Stone, Princess Di, Tonya Harding and Nancy Kerrigan, all famous ladies sporting the B cup.

 

Moving along to C cup cuties!

Britney Spears, Christina Applegate, Diane Lane (Mr. Right's favorite celebrity lady!), Gillian Anderson, the very famous-bared-boob lady Janet Jackson, Kate Winslet, Jill Goodacre, Xena-Warrior-Princess Lucy Lawless, WonderWoman Lynda Carter, Marilyn Monroe... so, the list is good.  Let's look specifically at the 38-C celebs:

Sophia Loren

In other news, hey, cinch that waist a little more ; )

Emma Samms (Dynasty!)

Irish McCalla (Sheena, Queen of the Jungle)

Senta Berger

Just for Mr. Right, I'll post gratuitous Diane Lane.

I must admit, he's got impeccable taste.  She's absolutely gorgeous!  Also, now I want to grow my hair out.

And combing the list for 38D ladies:

Mimi Rogers

Serena Grandi/ Vanessa Steiger (who I haven't heard of, Italian movie star)

I think after looking around, the C's are really my favorite.  

Ask and Ye Shall Receive. Especially on Facebook.

Today I took a Facebook poll... asking only women to respond, "What, to you, is the perfect real-life cup size?"

After 77 replies (only two of them men, surprisingly enough, because I am friends with a LOT of smartasses) the overwhelming majority was C, followed closely by C/D, then a few D or DD's thrown in.

There were some very helpful insights, most of them having to do with "considering your frame size" and not going too small.  Honestly, I'm scared of staying too large.  My biggest fear (well, aside from the irrational fears) is that I won't go small enough, and I'll regret having stayed "big".  I guess when you get implants, you can theoretically hold them up and "see" the size in proportion to your body, feel the weight.

In a reduction scenario, you can't do that kind of thing.  I keep trying to think of ways to explain what I want.  If half of my breast mass was gone, I'd be happy... I think.  I'm sticking with my wish for a C cup.

Thanks Facebook!

Pre-Op Visit with Doc

I feel a lot better after the pre-op meeting : )

Notes:  Since my last consultation, I've had a mammogram, and then another mammogram because they found little weird spots. The second mammogram was... more squeezy, you could say, with the squeezing happening in a more specific area.  As it turns out, they are just calcifications and nothing to worry about.

Back to the pre-op appointment...

Doc's wife, we'll call her Mrs. Doc, is the pre-surg consult gal. She is a TRIP, and had a breast redux/tummy tuck before she had kids. Then she had kids, then she was going to have another redux... and in the pre-op testing they found that she had breast cancer. Instead of having a reduction, she had mastectomies and got implants... and her husband did the surgery. They are the funniest pair-- you can tell he's more reserved, yet very sweet, and she is one saucy lass. I would love to throw back a bottle of wine with her!

We went over the things I need to have on hand (soft cup bras, ginger ale, crackers, prescriptions), I signed my life away on a bunch of papers, acknowledging fun things like "you could die because it's surgery".  Thinking happy thoughts.  Thinking happy thoughts.  Dear God, please let me not die.

Then came the most wonderful part of the whole appointment.  Doc took pictures of my belly flap.  UP CLOSE!  With flash, man.  Oh. My. Word.

You haven't lived until you've had your luscious pale dimply stretch marked belly fat photographed... I mean I thought the "looking at the belly fat under flourescent light" was the end-all, be-all... I stand corrected.

I also saw the drains I'll have for the tummy tuck, which kinda made me gag but i guess it's worth it. i'll have those for probably a couple of weeks (grody). They remind me of the blub & tube that came with the old Fisher-Price Doctor's Kit when we were little; I really didn't imagine fish tank tubing all up inside my incision but the man knows what he's doing.

The fabulous compression garment i get to wear over the tummy tuck area is pretty sexy too… NOT.  It's basically a big giant spanx, but it has a hook-and-eye closure that then zips up-- and little panels on the side that you can use to pull it up..like boot straps. and a giant pee-hole. 

Sex-ay (doesn't the model just look so happy to be modeling this lovely compression garment?).

Mrs. Doc showed me the kind of bras to get for recovery (until the boobs have settled into their shape). They are $9, fruit of the loom, and have front closure. http://www.walmart.c...indingMethod=rr

I also thought it was neat that they'll give me an anti-nausea patch to wear starting the night before surgery... in lieu of having to worry about taking nausea meds to counteract the side effects of the anesthesia.

I was surprised when Doc referred to the statue as being a B cup, but he's at least got the picture. He talked to me at our first consultation about not going "too" small and being disappointed. I just really, really don't want to end up with freakin' D cups. I am an FF or a G right now, and sometimes when I order FF or G cup bras, even those suckers don't fit. Pre-period, they grow and huuuuurt so it's anyone's guess as to what my actual real size is. I maybe need to talk to him about the fact that once I can run more comfortably, I will most likely be losing weight... so to operate with that in mind.

Maybe I can photoshop myself and show him what i want to look like...LOL.

One of the ladies on staff with Doc had me write all my checks. One to Doc, one to the Anesthesiology place, and one to the hospital. After she got papers in order, she walked me over to the hospital for a blood test, urine test (they have to be sure I'm not pregnant), and a chest x-ray.  I also completed all my registration details so on the morning of surgery, I walk in, present my "golden ticket" (piece of paper proving I'm all registered), and proceed to surgery!

I have to be at the hospital at 6 am. Dude, that's like the middle of the night for me. 

Abdomi-NO-plasty, or Abdomi-YES-plasty?

So, I opted to go ahead and do the tummy tuck along with the breast reduction-- even though it feels like cheating-- because let's face it... i am probably never going to have elective surgery again, and it's tough to find breaks in schedule long enough to heal up from something like this. Sure, I can work it off the old-fashioned way, but I can also just have it magically removed. So here I go.

It's also really (all things considered) not that much more $$ to add the extra procedure (I am already paying for anesthesia, OR, surgical prep, etc.). I get to stay overnight in the hospital, which eases my mind a bit. My friend who is an RN is coming to stay with me the day I get home, just to be there so Mr. Right doesn't have to deal with everything (I will have drains for a few weeks from the tummy tuck).

I have my pre-op appointment in a little while... paperwork, formalities, writing the big check, and directions for preparations : )

Doc asked me what size I'd like to be. That's a really hard question to answer... I mean you can walk around all day looking at people, thinking to yourself, "Oh hey, I'd like boobs like her!" but it isn't really acceptable to be all, "oh hey, what's your bra size? I'm having surgery and I'd like to be just like you."

Most of the readily available-for-viewing breasts are the implanted kind, which isn't helpful either. Most celebrities are thinner boned or skinnier, so the proportion isn't really right.

I decided I like this statue's breast-to-body proportion...

I figure she's thick like me, so maybe it's a better proportion. I feel goofy walking in with a statue (haha, statuesque!) picture, but hey, at least it'll help communicate what i'm going for.

I can't believe I'll actually be able to wear shirts with buttons, and buy a bra at a regular store. TARGET EVEN! oh man. The thought of going running wihtout having to take meds for shoulder pain afterward is so dreamy.

I am a little scared that I'm going to look like Frankenboobs for a while after. 

Tummy Tuck: Is it Cheating?

So once you cross over into the realm of things like the tummy-tuck, you start wondering about yourself.  Am I doing this out of NEED, or out of WANT?

Am I lazy to go this route instead of working off all this fat like a good honest person would?

What will I tell people when they say, "Oh you look so good!  How did you lose the weight?" and will they be disappointed in me when they hear that it was a surgical procedure and not hard work and exercise?  Will this discourage other people who are working very hard to get results, yet not seeing them?

Do I care if other people judge me?  Would I judge someone else?  Does this make me ridiculous like the crazy people?  Hmm, are they really that crazy? Has money made me insane?  What will civilizations, hundreds of years from now, say about people like me who had fat and skin surgically removed even though they consider it to be archaic mutilation?  What if God spites me by giving me some sort of horrid staph infection or incision wound?  Will Mr. Right think less of me?  Will he still think I'm sexy and beautiful and perfect if I'm all scarred?

Then there is the catch-22.  Should I lose more weight and get to a "goal" place in fitness before having this surgery?  Well sure.  What is keeping me from being more active?  Well duh, the giant breasts.  They are painful and in the way... so I'd like them reduced.  But I should get to a goal weight first.  But the breasts are setting me back.

Who doesn't love a good round-and-round argument?  Who wants to chase my tail with me?

Knowing myself, and how hard I have worked in the past (through pain and through being fat and through self-discipline)... I really believe that after the procedures are done and I am healed, and able to participate in strenuous exercise... having been through the healing process of the surgery will be motivation.  I do NOT want to go through surgery, recovery, healing, etc. only to slack off and gain the belly fat back.  This is it.  It may be an unconventional means to an end, but I don't think it's the "wrong" thing to do.

My second surgical consultation

So I called up Doc's office again, let them know I was back on the breast-reduction train, and said I'd also like to consult about a tummy tuck.

I really wanted to get moving too, because I had a hole in my schedule just long enough to allow for recovery if we could get the surgery on the calendar.

As luck would have it, they had a consult available the next day due to cancellation.  SCORE!

Same thing as last time... I watched the video about Abdominoplasty, then Doc and his helper gal came in and examined my belly fat.  You really haven't lived until you've had someone examine your beautiful stretch-marked glory under flourescent light, people.  Credit to Doc-- if he was grossed out, he  certainly didn't let it show.  He just explained that it would be pretty simple.

I did laugh when he was divulging info about how my scar would be a wide, hip-to-hip incision... because he said that it used to be like a joker-smile-- back when the french-cut was in style.  Now, with the hipster business going on, the low and wide incision is preferred.

I went ahead and had them quote me for both procedures.  Doc gives a discount on the second procedure, which is right kind of him.  His actual fee for each procedure is $3600.  I got a few hundred off for the second procedure, and then a cash discount as well if I paid by check.

Oh you bet I'll be paying by check.  Even Scrooge McDuck with his piles and piles of gold coins knows you don't want to just toss out more coins than you need to.

"You should do a tummy tuck, too!"

So, I'm divulging to someone (a breast-reduction veteran) that I'm thinking again about having the surgery.  She mentions that I should do a tummy tuck at the same time.

This gets me thinking.  That belly flops an awful lot when I try to run.  Sometimes, that one flap of belly flops so much that it makes my pants fall down below the flap, which is just mortifying.  Wow, what if they could do a tummy tuck at the same time?!?!?!  What if all those years of fat and genetics could really just be zapped away in one procedure?

Maybe the veteran is on to something.

Let's face it.  If my breasts are smaller, my belly is definitely going to be more prominent.

Hmm.  I'm gonna be down for the count recovering anyway, I have the money.  Why the hell not?

Off to do more internet research.

The Silver Lining

I talked about my mother's death because

a) You won't scratch your head later in the blog wondering, "Where is her MOTHER?" and

b) It will explain how, suddenly, magical money fell from the sky.

While there had been no way to willy-nilly subsidize expensive surgery before, my parents had provided and planned well, sending pennies from Heaven down in the form of Life Insurance.

Me and Mr. Right like to label ourselves as responsible adults.  Being that we are married and respectful of one another, I consult him in all financial matters, and considered "my" money to be "ours" and to be spent/saved as we, together, saw fit.

Like countless others, we had debts that could be paid off.  There were other things we could do to move our lives and family in a different direction.  We went on a cruise because the Good Lord knows we all needed a vacation.

Once the storm passed and the clouds parted, we decided that there would be enough available to fund my surgery : )

Stormy Weather

A few months after the sad day when my surgery coverage was denied, a more serious situation evolved.  My mother was dying and I had no idea.

She'd had cancer for years... always making strides, soldiering quietly through treatments and surgeries, holding her head high and being beautiful.  She still held her head high, and remained beautiful, but her body was shutting down.  I was with her in the cancer center ER the night she coded, my 37th birthday.  The next month was a blur, and she left us peacefully on a sunny Tuesday morning to join my father in Heaven.

I have an absolutely fantastic family, a support system like no other.  When one parent passes away, it's painful beyond belief... but you still feel safe, as you have a parent left.  You're still someone's child.  You can still escape the world-o-grownups by calling up your mom and having her talk to you like you're her little girl.

When the second parent is gone, there's a complete feeling of exasperation.  Am I an orphan?  No, I'm an adult.  Who do I go to for advice?  As my friend Mandy said,"There's nobody like your Momma."

Wherefore art thou, United Healthcare?

I cried when I got the letter from my insurance company that the coverage for the procedure was denied.

The non-insurance cost of the surgery was around $8,000.  This put it nicely out of reach.

Yes, the procedure is "medically necessary" for me... but as I am a fabulous self-employed artist, Mr. Right's company is the policy-picker.  I'm endlessly thankful that he has a job where good health insurance is provided, but as a small company they had to choose an affordable benefit plan that would work for the most people.  That plan does not cover breast reduction, period.

The irony is... I worked for a healthcare system with super-awesome-dreamy healthcare coverage back in the day when I was swingin' and single.  I probably could have had a reduction and paid about $100 out of pocket back then... but it wasn't even a gleam in my eye.

My first surgical consultation

I did a lot of research on the breast reduction methods and procedure, learning how it's done, what recovery is like, what results are like, etc.

I talked with friends who had been through the surgery.  I asked about it on message boards.

Most everyone who has ever undergone a breast reduction says stuff like, "It's the best thing I ever did" and "I wish I'd done it sooner".  Nobody says they miss the abnormally large breasts.  Everyone is happy to have moved forward and taken this step.  It's encouraging : )

After careful consideration, and inquiries to a few local surgeons, I booked a consultation with a plastic surgeon.  When I got to the office, they greeted me, took me into an exam room, and had me watch an informational video that detailed the preparation, procedure, after-care, and possible outcomes of the surgery.  This wasn't any new information, what with my having scoured the internet for every available factoid before booking the appointment.

I changed into the exam gown (exam vest, it's just a top, I got to keep my jeans on), and Doc asked me a bunch of questions about my symptoms, then examined me.  He explained that it would be a pretty simple procedure, that I am a perfect candidate.  Like a glorious overture, I recall the words ringing in my ears... "Your back and shoulder pain will be gone immediately".

Sign me up, brother.

Since I'm so large and present with classic symptoms, he seemed to believe it to be a "medically necessary" procedure, so it was just a matter of running the insurance for approval and setting a date.

That was pretty exciting.  It was getting real!

Udderly painful.

I've always had shoulder and back pain.  Not constant, but definitely nagging.  Migraines, tension headaches, locked up shoulders, lower back pain, upper back pain, shoulder pain.  They have plagued me throughout the years, and I never thought much of them except, "Gosh, I'm a whiner."

I have "thrown out my back" doing simple things like leaning into a grocery cart, grabbing a box, or the ever-popular swinging a plastic bat at a wiffle-ball.  I'm top-heavy.  It's just the way it is.

It's tough for me to sit for a long time, especially in a "sitting up straight" position.  The middle of my back just kind of starts up with dull pain, which progresses to a heat-pain, and eventually a "sharper" dull pain that kind of feels like someone's shoving a dull knife between my shoulder blades.

Not that I actually know what a knife to the back feels like, I'm just trying to paint you a picture.

Conferences where you're set up at a hotel in a banquet chair for 8 hours a day are my nemesis.  The upper back and shoulder pain (which can radiate tot he arms) can get pretty unbearable, and I feel like a fool needing to take pain reliever to simply sit on my ass all day.  If only we could have lying-down conferences!  Better yet, zero-gravity conferences.

Jury duty (and I was kind of excited!  I got to be part of the justice system!) was sooooo terrible.  I had to finally tell the baliff that I couldn't sit still for that long, and to ask the judge if we could have more frequent breaks, or if I could stand in the jury box.

I got to where I was jogging regularly, had actually found a sports-bra that would bind me so tightly and completely that I wasn't flopping obscenely.  It didn't really "fit", and more than once I pulled or cramped up shoulder muscles trying to get into it, but it worked for my purposes.  My shoulders hurt like the dickens when I was done but I was tired of using the boob excuse.  I was done bing fat.

I accomplished a weight loss of about 40 pounds, felt pretty great for the most part, and maaaaybe went down a little in breast size.  I jogged 4.5 miles straight one day.  I entered and completed a 10K.  I wore the same bras, though I did need to use the tighter closures on some. A couple of them were noticeably looser, not necessarily to the point that I needed to buy new ones.

I've gained back probably 20 of that because I'm not running as much.  Breast size is relatively the same.  Back and shoulder pain is the same. Massages and pain relievers help, but I finally reached a point where I considered surgery.

OOOH LA LA! Finding the actual right sized bras!

So finally, I'm busting out (ha!  pun totally intended!) of my DDD bras.  Some of them are dying, or I can't breathe when wearing them.  I've gained a little weight, no doubt.  I've cruised past 30 and my body's a-changin'.

I need new bras, and can't find anything in normal mall stores that's working anymore.  There's a "Lingerie Store" that I pass frequently, so I stop in one day.  Um, $400 later I walk out with bras that fit me like a sweet dream.  Even a sports bra!  "Oh this is the one I recommend for the girls who ride horses."

This will hold breasts still while galloping atop a horse?  SOLD!  Even if it's $70.

Oh and also, evidently I am an F cup.  Except for the brands in which I am a G cup.  My head fits into my bra cup.  That ain't right.

With this knowledge, I am able to score a couple of new bathing suit tops via figleaves.com and exelntdesigns.com.  I can shove my boobs into them, so hey, they'll work.  Just no vigorous motion and we're good to go.

Finding Myself... or, my other half.

So I meet this guy.  He's like, totally different from all the other guys.  I'm enamored, he's enamored, truly love at first sight and we are HEAD over HEELS crazy about each other.

Oh yeah, he loves the rack, you betcha he does, and I love that he loves it.  He loves my earlobes, my toenails, hell, he loves my molars because they're part of me, and he loves every single solitary ugly or beautiful thing about me.  He's the real deal.

I think from time to time, oh my gosh, what the hell will happen to these boobs if I ever get pregnant?  I'm gonna need some kind of carry-all cart to function.  These thoughts fade, though, because I imagine that life with Mr. Right is a beautiful glittery rainbow dream.  No spawn of Mr. Right could ever cause me pain or strife!

So, we're engaged.  Everyone is elated.  Wedding gown shopping is a TRIP, because guess what folks?  Those gown samples are like... a size 8 or something.  I'm a size 14 on bottom and an 18-20 on top, if it's generously cut!  It's like a sausage.  Breast tissue squeezing floppily out the tops of these gowns and the salesladies are all, "Oh but when we order it in YOUR size and alter it, it'll be so flattering!"

I ended up going with a plus sized gown that could be taken in at the waist.  It was a beautiful strapless A-line gown (that's right sucka, strapless).  The top was beaded, the skirt was organza.  Strapless because quite frankly, encasing large breasts in any sort of gown can be a challenge... but anything with sleeves or cap-sleeves only serves to further bind the tissue, rendering the wearer unable to lift the arms and dance.  The strapless gowns would at least allow me to raise my arms.

HONEYMOON IN MEXICO!  A week of lying on the beach with my HUSBAND!  Nothing to do but bask in the glow of marriage, stare at our wedding rings, and drink daiquiris.

In bathing suits.  Well shit.  Now I have to go swimsuit shopping again.

I ended up with the ever-so-tropical and sexy... black tankini.  Only thing I could find with a DDD cup.  It had an actual underwire bra inside so that was a big selling point (though I did need assistance getting into/out of the top and snapping the bra closure).  I loathed the "normal" women who could wear adorable sundresses and prance around in bikini tops and sarongs on their honeymoon.

For the next 6 years, that was my go-to swimsuit.  Sure, I looked like I was trying to be sexy with my 4" of cleavage when we'd take the kids to the neighborhood pool, but it was really my best option.

Living with abnormally large breasts...

It had been quite some time since I'd worn anything with a button-front.  I'd been in many weddings, and felt like melting into a pool of humiliation on the floor each time one of my teeny tiny bride friends picked the damn strapless satin/flimsy/traanslucent dress... knowing I would be gawked at walking down the aisle with my boobs boosted to the sky by some medieval undergarment.  Boing, boing, boing *sorry Jesus, I know this isn't respectful* boing. Worse yet were the halter top dresses that were so popular in the mid 90's.  Nothing like an evening of medieval-undergarment paired with the round-the-neck strap.  Let's also mention that halter tops only draw the breasts together, creating even MORE cleavage.  Oh and it was the 90's so most of the time, we still wore stupid pantyhose.

A symphony of undergarments, if you will.  None of them comfortable.

I didn't hate my boobs at this point in life-- don't get me wrong, I enjoyed being the chesty lass, from a social standpoint.  Boobs are freakin' cool, and guys love them!  What do single ladies in their early 20's want?  I had no general career goals, I wanted guys to love me.  Want me!  Objectify me!  I am a woman and I want you to covet me!  "I'm the tall blonde with the big boobs".   Even the gay men were interested-- on a trip to New Orleans with some college buddies, a very forward and effeminate rainbow-flag toting jokester threw the meat scale up on the counter and offered to weigh them for me.  Oh HEY!  Thanks, um, but no thanks.

I really only hated them when I tried to shop for... oh, anything other than pants.  In the event that something FIT, nothing minimized them.  I just kind of had to hope for something that wouldn't show an obscene amount of cleavage at work.  Stretchy shirts and a cardigan layered over the top (never buttoned of course).  Suit jackets were an even BIGGER joke.  Large-breasted women wearing suit-jackets look like they're trying to be the "sexy secretary".

Swimsuits were a source of infinite frustration.  Even the "separates" tops only really went up to D cups, and even that was a stretch.  Thank the good heavenly Lord for the popularization of the tankini!  Shelf bra?  Oh... fail.

At this point in life, I had heard of people who had reductions, but that wasn't for me.  I think I thought that in order to keep my identity, to keep the attention of the guys, to keep being ME, required the boobs. Part and parcel.  Package deal.  Without boobs, who was I?  What on earth would make me stand out? I didn't know.  My self esteem rested on being sexy and being able to attract suitors and keep them around for a while.  Sexy lingerie was also kind of a fail.  The only thing that honestly worked was really stretchy stuff (which is hella sexy over giant breasts, so SCORE!).  No pretty lacy business for me.

So, life with abnormally large breasts.  Not so bad.  Neck and shoulder pain?  Bah.  That's from being at the computer!  Running?  Oh heavens no.  I'll just walk for exercise.

How I got my breasts.

I'm 37.  I've had noticeably-larger breasts since probably 4th grade, when some jerk kid in line behind me at school poked at my back and, in a nanny-nanny-boo-boo tune, announced to everyone, "YOU'RE WEARIN' A BRA-A-AAA!"  It was just a trainer, but definitely necessary as I was sprouting lumps.

So, hey, since I was 9.

I remember whispering my bra size to a boy in sixth grade (32B), whose eyes bugged out of his head.  Not that he had any real idea what it meant.  I'll say this, though, I was wearing a really adorable bra that day, and it matched my undies.  I'd bought it at a popular teeny-bopper store in the mall, remember Foxmoor?  I bloomed well before most girls, and by my tween years, I had no problem flaunting this.  Wheee, look at meeee, I HAVE BOOBS!  Makes a lot of sense that my longish-term 7th grade boyfriend was a good foot shorter than me.

Fast forward to, oh, 10th grade.  I played softball, and upon returning in 10th grade to get jerseys, I naturally requested my number from last year.  I tried on the shirt to make sure it still fit, but alas no.  I had bloomed over the summer like a healthy field of daisies. SHAZAM!  My coach awkwardly hinted that perhaps I'd get a new number.  I was probably a C cup.  I could still wear a cute bandeau bikini top, I'll tell ya that for sure, and like most 14-15 year olds, I had absolutely no idea how effing incredible my metabolism/body was.

I was a D cup approaching the latter years of high school, no small badge of honor for my boyfriend.  When you're dating a really physically fit busty blonde, you're a happy guy.

Somewhere in there I hit DD status... then DDD.  After college I was, well, a college grad with no strings and a lot of partying to do.  My metabolism slowed down (Nooooooo!!!!) and the sweater puppies continued to slowly overfill the DDD bras.  Because I spent most of my money on rent, alcohol, cover charges, and take-out food I couldn't really afford to shop in fancy bra shops, so I continued to squeeze the ladies into the DDD bras.  Who knows what size I actually was, I mean anything past "triple D" is seriously porn star boobage to the layman.  Can I get an "AMEN!"?