I received an email from a gentleman today. He had read my blog about the fact I'm getting a breast reduction. He asked me some interesting questions, and I'm going to answer them here as frankly and honestly as possible.
He felt that I was being a bit cavalier about what amounts to major surgery. He asked me if I had any doubts. The answer is: Boy did I!
I have been talking about getting a breast reduction for 25 years. I never did anything about it because, well, back in the day, they were pretty spectacular. I didn't like them, but others did. They caused me grief but they also got me jobs and a lot of free drinks and dinners. The Prime Minister told me I had real talent even though I'm sure he never read any of the letters I wrote on his behalf.
Pierre, you old hound dog, you.
For someone with low self-esteem, that was pretty awesome.
Mostly, I was afraid of all the urban myths. I heard that sometimes the girls stop being twins and one becomes the size of a baby and the other becomes a toddler. I heard sometimes that the nipples come out all wrong, that one is accidentally positioned on the neck or the naval. And I heard that sometimes a woman can experience pain for a long time.
The worst one I heard was that the doctor cut off your nipples. EWWWW! so there would no longer be any sensation, and that was a drawback because I liked sex, and breast foreplay was part of the whole experience.
Over the years, big boobs get stretched out and you really can't feel much so that final point became silly to me.
As I got older -- the past ten years or so -- I started to gain weight and they just kept getting bigger and unsightly. I now have to spend $75 just to find a bra that fits, if I can even find one. All of the clothes I used to love don't fit anymore and the ones that do are ugly. When my daughter got married a year and a half ago, I fretted for months about what to wear because I didn't want to look like Ma Kettle in the photos. (Ma Kettle, by the way, had smaller boobs than me!) I opted for wearing the same dress I always wear, the one that is black, of course, and hides a lot.
I became so self-conscious that I wouldn't let my husband see me naked -- the other question from the reader -- and we stopped being intimate altogether. So, in answer to the gentleman's second question, my husband is all for this boob job. He's hoping that if I have a better self-image, I won't be afraid to come into the light. He loves me no matter what, and that is all that matters to me.
Scott and I were older when we got together. I'd already had a weight problem, and had a really difficult experience going through menopause. He just wants me to be happy, and he is unafraid that I'll end up as a carpenter's delight. Which, by the way, is the joke in this blog's title.
When I was much younger and not as buxom, I had a boyfriend who shrugged when I asked him if he'd like me with bigger boobs.
"More than a mouthful is wasted," he said.
That's about right.
My correspondent also wondered about the size I will be when my surgeon removes the poundage. I am informed that plastic surgeons aren't in the business of lopping off great gobs of boob, and that they go for balance. I'm a curvy girl, so the doctor will make sure that the breast size is in proportion to the rest of me. (I'm not going to look like a bowling pin!)
I'll probably be a D cup or so, and that's fine with me. Not only that, gentle reader, the boob job comes with a boob lift, so they will once again be spectacular.
Anyway, more on this after my consult with the surgeon. Thanks for writing! Keep those cards and letters coming in, will ya?
I'd love to hear from women who have been through this. If you write, I'll share your stories in this space. Maybe I'll even run and contest and give away all my flouncy tops!
He felt that I was being a bit cavalier about what amounts to major surgery. He asked me if I had any doubts. The answer is: Boy did I!
I have been talking about getting a breast reduction for 25 years. I never did anything about it because, well, back in the day, they were pretty spectacular. I didn't like them, but others did. They caused me grief but they also got me jobs and a lot of free drinks and dinners. The Prime Minister told me I had real talent even though I'm sure he never read any of the letters I wrote on his behalf.
Pierre, you old hound dog, you.
For someone with low self-esteem, that was pretty awesome.
Mostly, I was afraid of all the urban myths. I heard that sometimes the girls stop being twins and one becomes the size of a baby and the other becomes a toddler. I heard sometimes that the nipples come out all wrong, that one is accidentally positioned on the neck or the naval. And I heard that sometimes a woman can experience pain for a long time.
The worst one I heard was that the doctor cut off your nipples. EWWWW! so there would no longer be any sensation, and that was a drawback because I liked sex, and breast foreplay was part of the whole experience.
Over the years, big boobs get stretched out and you really can't feel much so that final point became silly to me.
As I got older -- the past ten years or so -- I started to gain weight and they just kept getting bigger and unsightly. I now have to spend $75 just to find a bra that fits, if I can even find one. All of the clothes I used to love don't fit anymore and the ones that do are ugly. When my daughter got married a year and a half ago, I fretted for months about what to wear because I didn't want to look like Ma Kettle in the photos. (Ma Kettle, by the way, had smaller boobs than me!) I opted for wearing the same dress I always wear, the one that is black, of course, and hides a lot.
I became so self-conscious that I wouldn't let my husband see me naked -- the other question from the reader -- and we stopped being intimate altogether. So, in answer to the gentleman's second question, my husband is all for this boob job. He's hoping that if I have a better self-image, I won't be afraid to come into the light. He loves me no matter what, and that is all that matters to me.
Scott and I were older when we got together. I'd already had a weight problem, and had a really difficult experience going through menopause. He just wants me to be happy, and he is unafraid that I'll end up as a carpenter's delight. Which, by the way, is the joke in this blog's title.
When I was much younger and not as buxom, I had a boyfriend who shrugged when I asked him if he'd like me with bigger boobs.
"More than a mouthful is wasted," he said.
That's about right.
My correspondent also wondered about the size I will be when my surgeon removes the poundage. I am informed that plastic surgeons aren't in the business of lopping off great gobs of boob, and that they go for balance. I'm a curvy girl, so the doctor will make sure that the breast size is in proportion to the rest of me. (I'm not going to look like a bowling pin!)
I'll probably be a D cup or so, and that's fine with me. Not only that, gentle reader, the boob job comes with a boob lift, so they will once again be spectacular.
Anyway, more on this after my consult with the surgeon. Thanks for writing! Keep those cards and letters coming in, will ya?
I'd love to hear from women who have been through this. If you write, I'll share your stories in this space. Maybe I'll even run and contest and give away all my flouncy tops!
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