So, I have something to share with the class. That's what I feel like, anyway - like I have been caught leaning over to whisper something in my best friend's ear in class and the teacher is making me share it with everyone.
So, here goes: I am having cosmetic breast surgery on Friday.
Phew. I said, or typed it, or whatever.
I don't know what philosophy any of my avid readers take on this matter. And I'll be blatantly honest - I don't really care. This is a decision that has been seven years in the making. Literally - seven years. Because what I didn't know the day I delivered my son is that the tissue that filled that C cup bra so nicely would quickly disappear. It was almost like a punishment for not using them for their intended purpose - you know, to feed your child. And I swear that the moment I delivered David, they began to shrink by the minute. When I got pregnant with Madalyn, I thought surely the pathetic things would grow a little. No such luck. Not at all. My milk never even came in with her. Told you I was being punished by the mammary glands. And then my attempt at being a runner - well, you can only imagine. Just when I thought they couldn't get any smaller, they did.
So, after much inward debate and thought and yes, even prayer (though I am sure that might sound funny to some, I did pray about it and still do), I decided to have them fixed. It has been a source of anxiety for me, I won't lie. Why does it seem different to me than when Erika had her reduction or when someone else I know had a tummy tuck? It is really no different, but it just seems less acceptable to have something added than something taken away. I guess I have been so nervous about how others would perceive me for having my boobs done. But I finally gave into the fact that it doesn't really matter what anyone else thinks about what I do. It matters how I feel in my skin and my clothes. I should not make any decision in my life based on what other people might say or think about me.
So, that's the deal. My size eight frame is finally going to have the proportionate breast size. I will not look like Pamela Anderson (neither breasts or body). I believe I will look like most women my age that have had two children. I will actually have breasts. I am so excited to not have to comb through the racks of B and C cup bras looking for the stray A cup somewhere in the mix. I am looking forward to destroying my leopard print water bra (yes - I wear a bra filled with some sort of fluid to make me look like I have boobs). In fact, I am looking forward to destroying all of my bras. I am thinking of having a bra-burning in our fire pit. Liberating.
So, to all who are reading, I will be out of commission for several days. Tomorrow will be busy with blood work and a marking appointment. And then I will need some time to clear the brain of fog from medication. Then I will post about how I am feeling and what I think.
On Friday morning, just say a little prayer for me please. If you feel uncomfortable, you don't have to mention the actual terms boobs or breasts in your prayer. Just pray for a safe surgery and the doctors looking over me.