My Breast Adventure or the Making of Frankentitties

What is it that entices or mortifies us about women’s breasts? They are the very image of our femininity, and they feed our children. Recently I was in a public library and browsing the New Arrivals. There was nothing much of interest to me, until I saw this book called Stacked: A 32DDD Reports from the Front by Susan Seligson. It intrigued me. In fact I picked it up and started to read the back and inside jacket. It got me thinking about my own and the journey we’ve had. 

How comfortable are you with your own? I certainly haven’t been until very recently. I was never really aware of my own breastage until I hit puberty and they were larger than the rest of the girls in the class, which left me feeling awkward and ashamed. I began to loathe gym class, and all its running. Who wouldn’t with a nick name like “Black Eyes.”

I jumped in headfirst, leaping over the cute sexy bras and into a world of the combat bras. Perhaps it was the norm of the female family members who took me shopping. No wonder I hated bra shopping, especially when my grandmother would attend, coming into the changing room to tuck me in around the sides. I managed to escape my puberty with some dignity still attached, however the awkwardness never left.

I cannot seem to recall where the initial idea came from for the breast reduction, however, I do wish that I waited a few years. How can a seventeen-year-old comprehend such a decision as removing eight pounds off her chest and not being able to breast feed a future child? And the scar tissue she would have for the rest of her life? 

After the surgery, I was relieved. My posture greatly improved, but I was always aware of the scarring. It became the dreaded conversational piece with each new lover, yet surprisingly enough we have come to an arrangement. Self discovery sometimes needs the hand of someone else to guide you. I never anticipated that I would love the sensation of tugging and nibbling my breasts until recently, especially when it is not so gentle. I no longer feel so self conscience, or loathe my breasts any longer.

It hasn’t been an easy twelve years. But if I knew then what I know now, perhaps I would have hesitated. My advice to anyone even considering a breast reduction, do your homework on your surgeon, the procedure, the aftercare, and what to expect in the coming months.