3.414

Pounds, that is.

I'm letting everyone know ahead of time that you might want to skip this post if you don't feel comfortable with reading about my body. I'll post other things soon, so come back in a day or two and there will be something else to read. Promise.

Last week I realized that I had done very little reading in June. I had to take some drastic measures to change that, but I'm happy to report that I finished the month by reading 5 books in three days. The only way to do that, of course, was to check myself in to the hospital for some down time. My excuse? 3.414 pounds of extra breast tissue.

In the States, a breast reduction is an outpatient procedure, but here it requires a stay of at least three days. So I checked in on Tuesday, had the operation on Wednesday, and recovered on Thursday and Friday. I checked out on Saturday morning, but only after being assured by my surgeon that she could keep me in until Tuesday if I wanted to stay. She would check on me once a day (except Sunday, of course) and I could rest and be observed until my stitches came out on Tuesday. I thanked her and came home. We will meet her in her office on Tuesday afternoon and she can finish things up then.

So why did I decide to have the surgery? I have worn a bra since I was eight, and I’ve had stretch marks since I was ten. All of my life I have suffered headaches and other issues that can be traced to the size of my chest. I have always denied back pain, but that is largely because I always have an ache or a pain somewhere, so I tend to ignore it and continue whatever I’m doing. Two other factors were a part of the decision. A few years ago I lost a bunch of weight. I’ve found most of it by now, but while it was gone it was easy to see that the weight loss had not affected the size of my breasts. The other factor, and the only one that was worrisome was that I had increased in size after the boy was born. The increase was likely to continue, and there was no way other than surgery to halt that progress.

Beyond all of that, however, my clothing has always been an issue. I have never been able to wear a button down shirt without the help of at least one safety pin. Tee shirts, even those designed for plus sizes were not designed for my proportions. Even dresses were difficult because my top and my bottom sizes were so different. As a result, many dresses designed to be flattering for my general shape simply made me appear pregnant. Add that to my last bra costing almost 60 dollars (and being one of the ugliest pieces of clothing I’ve ever seen) and it was time to make this change.

The fact that the generally stingy insurance company was willing to pay for the entire thing was also a major part of the decision. For an unknown reason they are happier to allow plastic surgery in Europe than in the States. I’m pretty sure I would not have had a problem having it approved wherever I lived, but here it was way too easy. From the time I sat down with the surgeon to the time I lay down on the table less that a month had passed. Any of you who might be wondering why I did not contact you before Wednesday to let you know…. this would be why.

So now it is done. I will write a separate post in a day or so about my experience in the hospital. It was not bad, and the language barrier was lower than it might have been for others. All that matters now is that I am home, and that I am not in pain, and that I think it went well. I won’t know for another few months, because scars need time to heal and the swelling needs to subside, but from what I can see so far, I look pretty darned good. I actually look very much the same, just better. I will post an (clothed) “after” shot in a bit, after I have managed to scrub all of the iodine off of my neck.