I’m fairly new to this blogging thing and still kinda learning the ropes, so to speak. In saying that, I enjoy it thoroughly. I know at the moment I’m only discussing my boobs, the surgery and the recovery process but this is a personal blog and that’s what is most personal to me right now. In the future I will no doubt blog about many other things as they come into my life.
Today, however, somebody emailed me about my blog and my ‘boob job’ and said, in not such a polite manner, that I talk about it too much. Firstly, I was irritated by the term ‘boob job’. I didn’t have a boob job. I had a ‘bi-lateral reduction mammoplasty’ for very real medical reasons. This wasn’t a cosmetic whim or something I decided to do one lunch time. This was a serious surgery that I had spent years deliberating over and in the end waited for it for quite some time.
For somebody to refer to it as a ‘boob job’ is insulting and disrespectful. No disrespect to implants or augmentation but they’re two very different surgeries. What I went through was over three hours of major invasive surgery. I had 3.5lbs of tissue removed and I was opened open from armpit to armpit. I’ve had both nipples removed and reattached and I now have scars running from my nipples to beneath my breasts. This was definitely no ‘boob job’.
I apologise if this offends or repulses anyone, but that’s the reality of the situation. I felt compelled to share this with you, as people seem to be shocked and amazed by the scale of the recovery required following this procedure. The fact is it’s only in the last few days that I’ve been able to shower and get dressed without help. One day soon I’ll be up and active again and this will all seem like a distant memory, but in the meantime, I’m counting down the days until I can do the things I’m unable to do at the minute.
Think about not being able to hug those nearest and dearest to you. It’s the thing I really, really miss the most. There’s so much I’ve missed and so much I’m looking forward to. I’ll be able to sleep in any position other than sitting up, propped by a dozen pillows. Oh and I’ll be allowed to drive. I’m also excited to be able to shave my own legs and paint my own toes again. The thought of never having to wear a sports bra to bed, or wince when I’m putting on my socks, fills me with joy. I’ll even be able to laugh again without hurting.
The list of things I can’t physically do right now is endless and I’m not going to bore you with them. For now I’ll just say that, unfortunately, it’s recovery time and that’s what I have to do.
P.S: Thanks to Christian and Dena for their input and help on this post.