Little Bits of Pixie Dust

Life should NOT be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand, martini in the other, body thourougly used up, totally worn out and screaming "WOO HOO, what a ride!!"

Friday, January 13, 2006

Tiny Vests are not very Flattering

Well, sorry it has been awhile... wait, who am I apologizing to? The reader that I hope to get someday? The invisible one that I pretend hangs onto my every word? Oh, did I sound bitter? Anyway... I have been sick with the flu for the past two days. I have never spent as much time in the bathroom as I have yesterday and the day before. Things were shooting out both ends and I felt like complete shit. BUT

Before I started shitting uncontrollably, I went to the doctor~ the boob doctor. It went all right, but I really don't know anything yet. They took me into this little room, and a nurse asked me questions such as what size I was hoping to be (a C) and some of the problems that I have been experiencing. Then I had to put on this tiny vest thing and a robe. The doctor came in, along with a nurse and I think a medical student. I had already been there before, but chickened out the last time, so he didn't do the whole speal that he would have. I kind of wish he would have been more thorough, because A* hasn't ever been there before and I know he had questions, but they did load us up with pamphlets, so he has been doing some reading. The doctor made me take off the tiny vest and stand in front of him, with my two ginormous girls right in his face. He felt my shoulders and neck, noting that I had "dents" in my shoulders where my bra sits. He asked me what all my symptoms were, and I told him the back and shoulder pain, rashes on my breasts, headaches, etc. He nodded, then flipped my boob up, grabbing it with one hand while he felt under it with the other. He told the nurse to "note the discoloration under the breast", which I didn't even know existed but I guess is because something is always rubbing that area. He told me that he would send everything in to my insurance company, and that we would have to wait 4 to 6 weeks to hear an answer. My heart dropped a little when I heard this... that is a long time to wait, and now that I have my mind made up I just want it over with. Then I had to go across the hall in my vest, and they gave me a robe, and I had to stand up on this little stage thing and do half quarter turns while a woman shot pictures of my breasts. Let me tell you, this was not the most comfortable situation that I have ever been in. AND I know that all of these pictures will be going to my insurance company, so a lot more people than I want are going to be viewing my girls. I went back to the room, where A* was waiting patiently after watching another man feel up his girlfriend, and the nurse brought in a book filled with pictures of before and after breast reductions. This was cool, because I tried to pick out women that looked about my size and then I could kind of picture what it would look like. She asked if we had any questions, and I did. I had heard that losing nipple sensitivity could be a possible side effect, and I don't want this to happen. My sex life would not be the same. So I asked her about this, and the nurse said while it is rare, it COULD potentially happen. But A* reminded me that they have to say all of the possible outcomes to cover their asses, and that it probably won't happen. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Armed with pamphlets and information, we left with the promise that someone from the office will call me as soon as they hear from the insurance company.

We walked to the elevators, and I burst into tears. I don't even really know why... I think it was just something that I have been thinking about and wanting to do for so long, and now that things are actually happening it is just kind of overwhelming. I don't really know how to explain it. Overwhelmed is the best I can do, and then of course I thought maybe I shouldn't get it done, and maybe the side effects aren't worth it, and maybe this, and maybe that, when A* stopped me and said simply, "I'm not letting you out of this one. You will be so much happier and it will feel so much better. And no matter what happens, even if you have no nipples and one of your boobs is attached to your left foot, I will be there and still love you."


So now we wait. I am keeping my fingers crossed for 4-6 weeks, and I think you should too!


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