My Breast Reduction

I guess I was blessed with size 34 D breasts. But it wasn’t a blessing to me. In 6^th grade I went from a B cup to a C cup. Hiding it with trainer bras then wearing a B cup, created quite a stir with the girls and stares from the boys. The girls were the worst, yelling out that I was wearing falsies. What did they want me to do, prove it to them? Jr. High was no different since most of the girls started to blossom, I went from a C cup to a D cup. I’d be walking down the hall trying to make it to my next class oblivious to the fact that a boy was running down the hall with his hand out to catch a feel.

High School, well the boys weren’t as bold. They would hug me and who was I to turn down a hug from a football player. So as you can see I grew up hating my breasts. Girls hated me for them and guys thought I was easy because of them. If I only knew now as the saying goes. By the time I had my daughter at 28 my breast were no longer wanted. (I wore a 34GG-nursing bra). I had acquired Degenerative Disk Decease from my mother’s side of the family and being top heavy was proving to be an added problem. By the time I was 35, I had convinced my physician, the insurance company and my parents (for the co-pay) that I needed a breast reduction.

Yeah! So on a warm June day in 1990, I went to a hospital outside Cleveland Ohio. My mother couldn’t take me, so she arranged for her hairdresser and one of her friends to drive me there. They dropped me off and told me they would pick me up and take me home tomorrow. So I signed myself in, got prepped for surgery and away I went.

I woke up 4 hours later in pain and nauseated. All I wanted to do was sleep, so they gave me some nausea medication with some pain pills and I slept till morning. At 7am the nurse woke me to check on my vitals and the doctor checked on my stitches and changed my bandage. Ouch. Then the nurse informed me that I had to get up and go the bathroom …but the kicker was I had to give myself a sponge bath before I was discharged. Why? I don’t know, but it was torture.

The next week I had arranged for my daughter to be taken care of so I could rest and heal. As the days passed I began to feel better. By weeks end I had the guts to take a peek at the stitches. They had removed my nipples and cut underneath and up the center of the breast. According to what I've read, this is normal for a breast reduction.

Now I had to return to the doctor’s office to get the stitches removed. I don’t know if they still use the same stitches and I would hope not. Why? Well you have healed all week and the stitches are under your skin and they have to rip them out of you. This pain was worse then the surgery. The nurses had to hold me down while the doctor pulled them out. So of course, I told myself, never again would anyone open my chest. So I quit smoking.

On the way out, my doctor said you might need a little nip and tuck in the future. I stared at him blankly saying to myself “right”. The things they don’t tell you before you have surgery.

Things were pretty good for about 12 years, and then I started to gain weight. Every year, a little more weight and every year my breast got a little larger. So now I am thinking about having it done again at 53.

I am back to a D cup. But I know I need to lose some weight before I have it done. The reason they didn’t reduce them as small as I wanted the first time was because they tilted the table up horizontally during
surgery (of course you are completely naked) and reduce you to a size that is in proportion to your hips. So I was only reduced to a small C cup. Another thing they didn’t tell me before surgery.

Over the years I’ve forgotten the pain of surgery (and stitch removal). I look in the mirror and what do I see…I see that young girl hating her breast. And I can’t wait to have a breast reduction again (among other things, but that’s another story).

If you would like to donate a $1.00 to my cause, it would be appreciated.