I jest. Naked Blogging is laying it all out there. Naked posts are the ones I find most interesting and worth reading. It can be scary, but if a woman can get up and talk about trying to commit suicide while 7 months pregnant in front of 1,000 women and get a standing ovation AND everyone wants to be her friend (myself included), then I think it's worth it. Another blogger said that if you aren't a little bit hesitant when you hit publish, then it probably isn't your best writing.
So anyway, here I am exposing something I would normally keep private. Two weeks ago I had a breast reduction. It's was my second one. I had the first at age 20. I am 5 feet 2 inches tall and I developed large breasts around my sophmore year in high school. I learned how to dress to minimize them, but I was always self conscious about it. I overheard a guy telling someone I had the body of a fox, but the face of a dog once when standing by my locker. I remember almost every detail of that day. When I was a senior my mom took me prom dress shopping. I desperately wanted to buy a cute, lavender strapless number from the Jessica McClintock outlet. Every dress I tried on that I was able to stuff my boobs into, was dragging on the floor. If the dress was the right length, I wasn't able to zip it up. I ended up buying a dress that was two sizes too big and my mom hemmed it for me. I remember coming home that day and laying face down on my bedroom floor, crying and just willing my damn boobs to shrink.
Fast-forward to my college years. By then I was a 36 DD. When home for the summer after my freshman year and out shopping with my mom, in the dressing room she casually asked me if I would like to talk to someone about having a breast reduction. Seriously? Yes, yes, yes. We made an appointment with a surgeon to get the low down. The scarring can be pretty severe. I don't care. You may not be able to breast feed. I'm 20, I don't care. The recovery is long and painful. I don't care.
Long story short, I went for it the next summer. Yes, the recovery was painful. It was more than a bit awkward to have to explain the scars to every guy that tried to feel me up (I was in college, remember). But I was thrilled with my new breasts. I could wear a bikini without feeling like everyone was staring at my chest. My clothes fit better. All was right with my body image.
However, 10 years later, I was not able to breast feed my kids. When I was 20, I wasn't even thinking about children, much less how I was going to feed them. I gave it a shot. But it is hard enough to breast feed twins when you haven't had breast surgery, let alone when you have. I was able to pump a little bit of milk to give them in their bottles, but it was an incredibly painful (and bloody) process. When I took my twins to their one month check up my pediatrician ask me how breast feeding was going. I immediately burst into tears. We ended up having a half hour conversation about it and I gave it up. I have an incredible amount of guilt about it, but I'm over it now so please keep your breast is best comments to yourself. I can guarantee you I was a better, more rested mom when I stopped pumping.
After Gloppy was born my breasts went from a large B back to the DD. They were heavy and uncomfortable. I read somewhere that empire waste dresses look great on large chested women. Well every time I put one on the waste line ran right across my nipple line. Not exactly a great look. About two weeks a months my breasts would become so swollen and sore that if someone just grazed one of them, I was in pain.
Then I read this post. It had never even occurred to me that I could have the surgery again. Rebecca is a rock star to me. I mulled the idea over in my head and finally decided to see a plastic surgeon. Two weeks ago the amazing Dr. R removed a little over TWO POUNDS of tissue from my chest. Strap a two pound weight around your neck and walk around for a day. And (bonus!!) he also lipo-suctioned out some of my back fat. I am still swollen and sore at this point, but I will end up as a large B, small C. The recovery has been no picnic. The doctor sent me home with orders not to lift anything for six weeks. Um... OK. Do you realize I have three kids and my laundry is on the first floor and our bedrooms are on the second floor? And did I mention that I have three kids and my husband travels like a lot? It still hurts like hell to lift my arms. Driving sucks. Every little bump causes a little shock of pain. And my kids are so over the "be gentle to mommy" thing. At the end of the day I am so achy from all the hugs, surprise tackles, and daily mom stuff. I'll spare you the gory details, but if you're interested, check out Rebecca's latest post about breast reduction.
Despite the pain, I am happy I decided to do it again. I think I'll be even happier in a couple of months when all the swelling goes down. My clothes already fit better and when I am able to run on the treadmill again, I know it will be feel more comfortable. I just feel more like me in my own skin.
So there you have it, my attempt at naked blogging or blogging like no one's reading (I've always hated that dance like no one is watching crap, but I couldn't resist). Mr. Mint will be mortified when he reads this post. I guess some of his co-workers occasionally read my blog. So if you work with my husband, just pretend you didn't read the one about his wife's boobs and go into his office and tell him how adorable his twin girls are in their dance recital outfits. Otherwise, feel free to stare at my chest if you know me in real life and ask me anything you like about the surgery. I am an open shirt... I mean book.
p.s. I usually hate thinking up titles, but this is my best title ever right? You gotta admit that title kicks ass.