tomorrow I undergo breast reduction surgery. I’m nervous, excited, and anxious. I think all of these are normal emotions before a major surgery, and probably a little more appropriate for an elective surgery.
the relationship I’ve had with my “girls” has been one of love and hate for as long as I can remember. as a pre-teen I couldn’t wait for the sign that I was becoming a woman. I’d stand in the mirror checking for any indication that breasts were beginning to form. I’d even talk to my older girlfriends who were already fully developed to understand what I should look for and they told me to hold my hands up over my head and if I could still see my chest protruding that was when I’d know I had boobs. Week after week I’d stand in the bathroom, or in my bedroom with my hands raised up like I was being robbed, looking for the sign of my boobs.
once they started developing it seemed like they were on a race of their own. I blew right through training bras, past A, B and C cups until I landed firmly in the land of D. My mother worried about my back and forced me to wear full coverage, front closing bras with back braces in them. They were the most unflattering, uncomfortable bras I’d ever seen. I wasn’t even allowed to sleep without them, and when I tried I generally was uncomfortable allowing my breasts to be free.
as a senior in high school I was all boobs and extremely self conscious. nothing fit my chest appropriately, and the choice I had for pretty bras was non-existent. some of the women on my mothers side of the family were also well endowed, so I came by my “girls” naturally.
as I matured, dealing with my breasts was something that was just a part of my life. I knew what I could and couldn’t wear, I knew that the grooves in my shoulder from their weight in my bras, and the stabbing of the underwire was just part of my life. I even knew that while I was pregnant that they would potentially increase in size and not get smaller. I was determined to breastfeed both of my babies, and I did so successfully. I grew to an L cup (almost double the size of my newborns head), and worried that I’d suffocate my daughter while feeding her.
as the years have gone by, my breasts have landed comfortably at a G cup, the grooves in my shoulders have discolored my skin, and I’ve developed a skin rash under my breasts due to the skin to skin contact. It has been difficult to exercise, to find swimsuits that are flattering, and to do normal daily activities without neck and back pain. Never did I attribute my headaches, or always tight shoulder to the size of my breasts, but as I researched breast reduction I learned that my life of discomfort could be 100% attributed to their size.
today I thank them for all they have done. I thank them for nourishing my children, and for rounding out my figure. I thank them for teaching me how to use my brain to get what I wanted and not rely on them as physical assets. I thank them for being a part of me for all of these years.
tomorrow I undergo surgery to reduce their size, to lift their position, and to relieve my neck and back. I’m nervous, excited, and anxious to see the outcome.
I plan to journal my way through this transition, and hope that my experience helps any women thinking about a reduction.
( . ) ( . )