However, every bud must come to flower and it seemed I ‘bloomed’ over night. I had abnormally enlarged breasts, not proportionate to my height and weight at all. I was very tall and very thin. And how I loathed and detested them. I hated how they interfered with me playing soccer. I would run and they would bounce up and down on their own. I couldn’t run without them punching me in the face. It was hard buttoning shirts and I tired to hide them in bulky sweaters and oversized t-shirts. I hated how I was teased. I would overhear the other girls in the locker room laughing, and could hear them say, “You know she stuffs her bra.” The boys were not much better. “Nice rack” or “Good looking melons.” I felt like a freak and wished they weren’t so noticeable. In addition, although I was only 13 or 14 ,I knew eventually gravity would eventually take over and did not look forward to the day my breasts would droop to my knees.
Then when I was a freshman in college, a few weeks before the holidays, my parents asked what I wanted for Christmas and I surprised them both and myself by telling them I wanted a ‘boob job.’
My parents agreed and looked into the cost of the surgery and discovered the procedure would be covered by insurance, as medically necessary, so over Christmas break I had my breasts reduced. A friend’s father, who was a plastic surgeon, did the procedure, and I was back to school after winter break.
I have never regretted having them done. He did a wonderful job; I was even able to breastfeed my boys. I am also grateful for the loss of the additional strain on my back and neck, having been recently diagnosed with arthritis in my lower back. I can’t image what the extra weight would be doing to me now.