So a few weeks ago I let you in on a decision I finally made.
In all honesty I made the decision years ago, but I never fully had the support of my husband, and we didn’t have the money to justify doing it.
I had to say it like that just to get you to smile. But really, that is what it is, right?
In my case it’s Breast REconsruction.
I emphasize the REconstruciton because I already had my chest done once…a long long time ago.
Let me share with you a little story…
Growing up I was a fairly popular teenager. I never had to work to keep my weight down. I didn’t have the thinnest hips, but I was fine. I looked like most every other teenager I knew. I ate and did whatever I wanted.
Out of school and entering college I started to hang out with a person who would become my lifelong very best friend. You know the kind. The friend who is there no matter what. Thick and thin. Time doesn’t change anything. Back then though we were just starting, but we did everything together. We were inseparable.
I remember one experience in particular. We went to VS to try on bras.
Up to that point I knew I wasn’t well endowed in that area, but after trying on bras with my new best friend I was made completely aware how little I had to work with. I was disappointed to say the least. Now knowing what some of my other friends had and not me mad me jealous.
Time went on. I met Greg. Later we got married. And then as the years progressed my weight crept up the scale – in all areas with the exception of my chest.
When I looked in the mirror I no longer saw the thing athletic teenager I remembered from earlier years. In her place was a much larger, uncomfortable, out of shape size A gal staring back at me.
At least when I was a teenager with an A cup I was grateful to be slim.
Older, I didn’t’ even have that.
Luckily at the time (and still) I had a husband who loved and wanted nothing more than to understand me and make me happy.
We searched around and found a doctor who came highly recommended. I met with several, but I liked him best. He was a little older (I was around 27 at the time so really anyone I met with was older), but he didn’t make me feel uncomfortable at all. I liked him.
With my weight I’m guessing around 150 at the time he helped me find a cc size that would fit my body. We decided on 300ccs filled to 330ccs to fill out my body.
My surgery went well. It took a few days to recover, but that’s only what I remember of it. I slept the better half of the weekend as the swelling went up and then slowly started to go down. Of course it took months for it to fully go down, but the pain was gone after only a few days.
I was incredibly happy with the results.
I had wanted to look like a feminine woman for so long. I coveted my friends who were well-endowed in that area. I don’t mean for it to sound shallow, but I wanted to feel attractive, and I hadn’t for so long. I’d hoped that actually having a chest would help me to feel more desirable. Its something you wouldn’t really understand unless you too were underdeveloped and wanting more like I did.
Now it goes without saying there are a lot of women out there with small chests who I personally find very attractive. They are drop-dead stunningly gorgeous. They walk with confidence and their lack of breast tissue doesn’t seem to affect them in the least.
This is me.
And I so wanted to feel feminine and didn’t.
Breast Augmentation gave me the little boost I needed to walk more proudly and feel more attractive than I had in years.
Then as the years went by my weight up and then back down and then went back up only to top out at 170lbs.
That’s when the other part of my story began – the part most of you are already familiar with.
Once I decided to finally once and for all lose weight, it took a lot of work. A lot of work. Countless hours in the gym with a very dedicated diet. Little did I know at the time how much I would love weight training. It didn’t take long before I knew this would be a life-long passion. I love every bit of it. I loved free weights. I loved the machines. I loved working each and every body part. I loved seeing the changes in my body. I loved seeing the muscle growth slowly start to appear as the months went by.
No machines were off limits.
I felt there was nothing I couldn’t do.
So I did. And I enjoyed Each. And. Every. One.
As the weight melted off and the muscle started to appear, I started to realize my once more full breasts started to disappear. What I had paid thousands to get a full C cup for was not maybe a small B. I’d lost so much weight and fat overall that my losing fat from my chest was no different. I lost it from there too. My boobs, if you will, were disappearing with each and every workout.
And to make matters worse I started to realize they no longer looked the same. Not only were they smaller, but they had fallen back in to the side pockets of my body, and one had dropped just enough to become visible to the naked eye. They were no longer symmetrical, side by side, and full. The cleavage I’d paid for was gone.
So…thus the ongoing nagging desire to have them redone all these years.
I was successful at ignoring this feeling for short periods of time. My husband never made me feel like I needed to have them redone. He loved me just the way I was. There was no pressure there.
But I felt it. I could see it. I just wanted them to look normal again. I’d worked so hard to finally get healthy and get my body in the shape I could feel proud of. I wanted that to extend to my chest area.
I wanted cleavage! It was as simple as that.
If you look at some of the pictures I had done with Picture Groove you can kind of see it too. In the sports bras I wore for the shoot you’ll see that on one side my cleavage is slightly coming out of the bra while on the other side it isn’t. You’ll also see that my left and right side are not symmetrical, and they most definitely don’t give me cleavage. It’s obvious, at least to me, that they are off.
So this time when the nagging feeling surfaced again, I pressed Greg. I explained to him in detail why it was so important to me, and why I so desperately wanted to repair the damage that had been done.
With his blessing, I met with several doctors. My original doctor sadly had died in a plane crash many years ago. He was no longer an option; otherwise I’m sure I would have gone back to him.
But I did to my due diligence and I met with many. Some of which made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. More than once I got the, “You want to go bigger”, and “Bigger is better!” I even had one doctor tell me to go 700cc at least on each side. I tried to envision my small frame with 700ccs. I couldn’t. I set another appointment – this time with Dr. Rose.
And it was with Dr. Rose I finally felt I’d found the right doctor.
Many of my friends had already gone to him, so he came with a heck of a lot of personal positive review. I can think of 4 or 5 friends just off the cuff who raved about him.
But I didn’t let their reviews alone sway me. I had to like him. And I’d have to like him a lot.
First off, his office was impeccable. The staff was so friendly and inviting. The office itself was clean, new, and felt sterile but in a good way.
What I loved most though was my first meeting with Dr. Rose.
He was nice, warm, spoke at a level I could understand, and professional. He evaluated my body, listened to what my goals were, and made recommendations based on what my body could handle. He asked me question after question before making a recommendation. He even referenced a chart which referenced based on your body’s width what circumference insert your body could handle without resulting in “spill over”.
I didn’t want “spill over”. I can only imagine how that would feel when running. Talk about chafing!
He assured me that he could help but that it would be unrealistic to make any promises. I appreciated his honesty.
He then let me know there’s a good chance the reason my breasts had changed, dropped, and separated was because of all the heavy chest exercises I’d done. The weight loss was one factor, but it was what I was doing in the gym that really did the most damage. Any wide grip chest exercise is now forbidden. I need to use caution. I need to be smart. I need to know work my chest in a way that I might tear open those pockets an further. The last thing I want is for my inserts to drop in to my armpits. You laugh. I do too, but sadly, it could happen.
So April 26th it is. Not even 2 weeks after Boston.
I can’t wait. I’m ready. I’ve been ready. I can’t wait to put this puzzle that is Jenny back together. I’ve worked sooooo very hard. This is only one piece, but it’s an important piece, and it’s something I can’t get by eating right or by working out. I need assistance – professional assistance – professional experience.
I told Dr. Rose I’d be writing about my journey. I told him not to be surprised if some of my gal pals come in and mention my name when setting up appointments. My guess is there are a lot of you out there who can relate.
You may agree or disagree with my decision, and that is okay. It’s my personal decision and something I feel very confident and comfortable with. I have no qualms with moving forward. But for those of you who this speaks to – if you have been thinking about it – know that I will continue to share my experience as I move forward.
For those of you around here, meaning Utah Valley, be sure to meet with Dr. Rose. You won’t be disappointed. And be sure to mention my name or the Gal page. It’ll be just that much more pressure for him to take care of all of us.
If ANY of you have questions, don’t hesitate even for a minute to email me. Due to the amount of emails I do receive know I’ll try to get back to you just as quickly as I can! I promise!
And thank you for letting me share my journey with you….
XO – Momma