I got boobs.

Finally. The day has come that I can fill out a bra. It has been a long time coming considering I have wanted breast implants since I was fourteen. Well, since I was twelve but I really held out hope for two more years thinking I would wake up with big boobs on Christmas morning, or my birthday, or like any fucking day but it just never happened.

It really isn’t fair when you’re in middle school and nobody should have boobs yet but then you become best friends with the largest chested girl in junior high because God blessed her. I swear it made me smaller in comparison. Without standing next to her maybe I didn’t need to hide my padded bra UNDERNEATH my sports bra every day. But it was kind of genius.

I have decided to walk you through my experience in case you are considering breast augmentation. Or in case you just want to hear me talk about my tits. My purpose is to help others accept themselves or understand they can change things they are unhappy with. And I got new boobs and I am shouting it from the rooftops. If you’re one of the lucky ones that hangs around my mother you may have been blessed with my beautiful before and after pictures as well.

I breastfed three kids, but after each kid sucked me dry I was left with less and less every time. So as they get allowance throughout their childhood, a portion of it will go back in my pocket because they should pay for this. I will not be birthing anymore children so I knew it was time to finally book my surgery.

I started asking for input from ladies with experience with breast implants. My surgery fell around the time I had already committed to clients. Would I be able to work just days after surgery?

The responses were 50/50. Half of the ladies made it seem like I was going to die. The other half really didn’t think it was that bad. I got one message from a friend who told me she wasn’t in much pain after her surgery, just that her arms hurt from having them pinned above her head.

PINNED ABOVE HER HEAD.

“PARDON ME. They do WHAT?!” I couldn’t get over this piece of information. I have no interest in being tied up. I want cleavage, not bondage. I realized I was perfectly willing to let somebody cut me open and insert a foreign object, but the thought of my hands being held above my head had me gasping for air.

The day of my surgery rolled around. Instead of being nervous, my kids were being monsters and I couldn’t wait to get out of the house. You read that right. I would rather have surgery than stick around the chaos any longer. So I skipped out the door.

Once I was there and laying on the operating table, I was being hooked up to an IV. I mentioned that I didn’t know what to do with my hands and the nurse told me it didn’t matter because she was about to PIN THEM anyway. Dying. I looked over at the anesthetist and said I had never been put under before and didn’t know what to expect.

“You’ll be fine.”

Oh, okay. Sweet. It was too late for me to do anything about it now anyway. Put me out of my misery. So he did. And all I could say was “Wow this is fas——“

And voila! I woke up with boobs on my chest. Forty-five minutes later!

The end.

Unless you want to hear about after…

I woke up and looked around. I said to the nurse “Am I in a different room? What time is it? That’s it?! I can’t believe it’s over. How do my boobs look?! Where is my husband?”

She left to fetch him. While doing so, she told Jeremie I was the most alert patient coming out of anesthesia they have ever had and that he is a lucky man to be married to me. Yup! She said that.

I felt fine. Everything felt tight but I was good to go. They had asked if I was nauseous and I wasn’t. I was ready to go home. They started giving me aftercare instructions so they could send me on my way and I guess I decided to just fall asleep right through them. I don’t fucking know.

I also changed my mind and decided I was nauseous. But I would rather be nauseous at home than hang around a surgical clinic all day so into a wheelchair I went and was rolled like a queen out of the wing and to an elevator…. where I threw up.

The doors were opening and people were getting off the elevator. I wasn’t too worried about it though. I assured myself they were looking at my new puppies and not the kidney dish full of puke I was holding.

I still wanted to go home. I would rather throw up at home than here, and off I went again.

I was good! A little help here and there to sit up out of bed was nice but not necessary. My parents and in-laws helped with the kids. My surgery was on a Monday and I was capable of working and parenting by Friday (but took it easy because I DID have help). I didn’t take the prescribed painkillers because they were making me sick. so I took Tylenol for a week.

I was a 32B (closer to an A) before surgery and am now a 32DD. I went with 350cc high profile gummy bear implants.

If you are considering surgery and wondering about pain, the cost of a breast augmentation is more painful than the actual surgery. And if you’re anything like me and can’t believe they pin your arms. Don’t worry about it.

They also hold you up like a rag doll while you’re out to make sure the “girls” are even.