November 22nd, 2016
The day I went from H cups to C cups. I was 20 and in my junior year of college. I came home for Thanksgiving break, got the surgery, and went back to Chicago all within a week. That day I was so happy and hopped up on drugs that nothing could ever top that feeling. But mental health and happiness can actually decline after what you thought was the happiest day of your life.
I developed much earlier then other girls in my 6th grade class and was completely embarrassed by it. I'd wear XL shirts when I was really a medium size. I wanted to hide the fact that my breasts were growing because I didn't want people judging me or treating me differently because of my cup size.
By the 7th grade I was already a D cup.
In 7th grade I still rocked the XL shirts and emo phase stone washed skinny jeans with matching high tops. My bathing suits were one pieces. When I swam I left my shirt and shorts on on top of it.
Doubling up on sports bras was the worst feeling. So much underwire and sweat, ugh. Running was slowed down due to the weight on my chest. Having boobs isn't as fun as everyone would like to think. Its work and pain.
It took me the longest time to want to wear a bikini.
It was so hard to find a bikini that I felt comfortable in but also one that actually fit me. My senior year of high school I put on a bikini and I was falling out of it. My boobs would fall out of my top at the beach all the time. I learned to never go in the water and to hide myself under a ton of beach towels.
After that day I truly hated the beach. I never wanted to wear a bikini. Especially at family pool parties. Oh my god was that awkward. They (boobs) are just so out there and obvious. After a few of those parties I made every excuse not to go and not to swim. Stayed in the shade and stayed super pale.
Shopping was a b**ch.
Normally shopping and online shopping are my favorite hobbies. Helps time fly by. But when you have huge tits and a small waste things don't fit the way you want them to. I couldn't wear crop tops, strapless, spaghetti straps, or really anything else you name it, without feeling like my boobs were balloons and on display. Even in normal clothes that I didn't think looked on display were very much out there for the world.
For majority of my late teen-hood life I wore sweatshirts, plain teeshirts, and giant flannels. Normal flannels would pop open.
I always talked about having smaller boobs but never thought I'd actually have them.
I would always say, "when I have smaller boobs I'll-", because for whatever reason I thought they'd magically shrink. But at 19 I joked about getting a reduction. It was a joke because I knew very well I couldn't afford it. But after doing some research and talking to women who have gotten it I learned it was actually a possibility.
I went to the orthopedist and the gynecologist so they could write letters of recommendation for me. We wrote down that it gave me back problems, that I had very dense breasts, and that I had a cyst. All completely true. Then I scheduled an appointment to see a surgeon in New York City, which from my home on Long Island, was an easy commute.
He cupped my breast and immediately knew what size I was.
Before he even read my papers, he cupped my breast and said, "Hm. 32 H?" I was BLOWN away. He had magic cup size telling hands. Right away he told me I was a perfect candidate and he thought that insurance should have no problem paying for it. And that moment I was in tears. All my insecurities, worries, and pain would go away. And insurance in fact covered the whole thing.
We scheduled it for Thanksgiving break. I came home from Chicago and prepared for the operation. After surgery I woke up in the hospital bed. I was still drugged up and when I looked down at my chest I started crying. The nurse thought I was in pain but I told her, "Im just so happy right now." Then I proceeded to throw up due to the anesthesia. After a week of being home I went back to Chicago to finish term.
You have to sleep on your back, have pillows propped under your arms with bags of ice, and drain your tubes every six hours. Sleeping was the worst but thanks to drugs, it got better.
I had these sexy drains filled with blood connected to me. It was really a site to see. My boyfriend was very supportive of everything I was doing. When he told his friends he couldn't hangout because he was taking care of me they didn't believe him. So we sent them a sexy drain picture and they replied back to him, "Sorry, man." And then proceeded to ask him how he was feeling. Because he was the one who just went through a major surgery . . . I was fine by the way . . .
Now, Im going to be frank. Pooping was hard and painful. There was some blood and some yelling. Before the surgery when they tell you that you might want to get some stool softener, fucking take it. Save yourself.
Two months later I couldn't work out and sleeping still sucked.
Im someone who has been going through body image issues. So originally I thought getting my boobs reduced would help that. It has sort of. But when the boobs got smaller everything seemed bigger and I was freaked out. After a month they told me I could do some light workouts. I took advantage of that and went hardcore and ended up hurting myself by doing so. I was in a scary amount of pain and had to go back to icing them.
I went into a depression after about two months. I felt numb. Nothing made me happy. They (boobs) would surge with pain here and there, which was normal, but it started to mess with me mentally. I couldn't sleep. Not just because I was uncomfortable but I just couldn't find peace in my mind. And even though I couldn't sleep all I wanted to do during the day and evening was sleep and ignore everything.
I was eating healthy but my body wasn't where I wanted it to be and not being able to workout killed me mentally and emotionally. When you change your body your mentality changes too. It takes a long time to adjust to it. Finding the right bras to wear was difficult too. Everything was going on a decline.
Someone explained it to me as since you're losing a part of your body, your body becomes sad because it misses its part.
There was another girl at my school who I knew got a reduction as well. Different style of procedure, but still. She told me that she too went into a depression around the two month mark. It felt amazing to know I wasn't alone. She told me to look into herbal supplements, aroma therapy, and suggested I see a therapist.
To anyone who ever feels alone, you're not. You're really not. There's someone out there who understands and in some way or form you will find them and your life will change. You're not alone.
Three months and still healing.
It takes six to eight months to be fully healed. I still haven't tried working out again because I know I will still take advantage and do too much. Everyone talked about how amazing I would feel after it, but no one told me that I'd feel depressed. No one prepares you for that. I started doing therapy to help me cope with everything. I learned to have compassion and that this feeling will only be temporary.
You're losing a part of your body. It's a major life change. And change, even though positive, can have negative repercussions.
To anyone thinking about getting a breast reduction: DO IT. Just be prepared. My life really was changed for the better and Im happy I went through with it.