Another excellent example of the old mantra “Never say never…” is my encounter with plastic surgery. In my pre-children days, I had stated many a time “I would never get plastic surgery. People who get boob jobs or lifts or tucks simply lack self confidence. The medical industry is preying on women and telling them they have to look a certain way.” Yes, I was naive, and I had no idea how dramatically pregnancy and children would alter my body.
(This is not a picture of me; it’s a greeting card Matthew bought.)
I’m tall and had always had beautifully proportioned boobs to go with my frame. They were a full 38-C set of ta-tas. But after I had two children, my girls were nowhere near what they once were. The transformation had happened slowly and it wasn’t until a year after my second child was born that I fully understood the gravity of my saggy-boob problem. I was sitting in bed one evening reading without a shirt on. The windows were open and I was a little warm. Matthew walked in, looked at me, and said, “Oh my God. You look like the droopy dog. The ones who have the extra skin that just hangs off their face.”
I looked down and my nipples were hanging out down by my belly button. Yes, my skin had stretched out that much.
The next day I called my best childhood friend Jackie. I told her what had happened. ”Can you believe my boobs are so saggy my nipples would hang down to my belly button? How is that even possible?” I asked her.
A long pause. “Well, I never told you this, but do you remember after you had Ellie and I wanted to see your C-section scar?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I pulled up my shirt just above my scar and showed you.”
“Yeah. Um, I saw your nipple then. They were hanging way down there even then.”
“What? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I thought you knew. And I was a little embarrassed.”
Yeah, one would think that if a woman had nipples that hung down to her belly button she’d know it. (Insert hard eye roll.)
A few weeks later, I went to a plastic surgeon Matthew worked with. I was dead set on either a lift or implants. I wanted something minimally invasive. I was not insecure; I was just correcting a wrong, an injustice done to my body by Mother Nature.
“I’d recommend a lift and implants,” said Dr. Jan.
“What if I just get a lift?” I asked.
“Then you will be a B cup at most.”
* Crickets * “Why?” I asked. “I was a 38-C before. I had great boobs before.”
“You lose breast tissue when you are pregnant. This is what’s left.”
Long pause. “Ok. What if I just get implants and fill out the skin that’s there?” I asked.
“The skin of your breasts stretched out so much when you were pregnant that you would be at least a G cup.”
“Huh? How is that possible?”
And then Dr. Jan gently grabbed my breast and pulled it out from my body. It was long, and it flat. “OK. I get it. You don’t need to say anything more.”
Several months later I got the lift and the implants. I can say without a doubt they were worth every penny. I. Love. My. Boobs. When they were done I was back to my very full C-cup. Now, 10 years later, gravity has stretched them to a D-cup. But they are still fantastic.