Chapter 3
Skin, Sagging Boobs, and Plastic Surgery: Lifting Up My Girls!
We should just get right into it, shouldn’t we? Now, I’m warning you that some of this is a bit graphic and personal, so if hearing about my nipples makes you uncomfortable, just move on to the next chapter ... or put a clamp on it.
When I had photographs taken for the cover of the first book, the photographer heard me complaining about the sagging skin issues I was having. She gave me the name of her plastic surgeon that, ironically, was the same person I’d heard about from someone local just a few weeks prior. At that point I really wasn’t keen on the idea of having any plastic surgery done, as I had already had my fair share of surgeries, and I wasn’t really interested in adding to the jigsaw puzzle of scars that was my body. My husband really didn’t care either, and since I only ever got naked for him I figured it was better to just invest in good support garments. Everyone already knows how I feel about SPANX: they rock my world, and any woman with pounds-worth of hanging skin is going to agree with me on this.
Then, when I got the photos back from the photographer, I had a bit of a come to Jesus moment. Seeing myself in SPANX, on the cover made me feel like maybe I should at least meet with this surgeon and see what he had to say about the current state of my skin problems. I already knew running was causing major problems for my skin, even with using compression garments. So maybe it was worth talking about. I made the appointment and canceled it. Made it again and cancelled it again, and then finally made it one more time and actually showed up.
I’ve had some pretty scary and traumatic medical situations, so I was very, very nervous about my appointment with Dr. K; I even thought about having a glass of wine before my afternoon meeting, but, thankfully, Jack convinced me otherwise. Jack went with me, and I brought a list of things that were causing me discomfort or irritation as the welcome packet had suggested.
I was trying not to wog out of the office as I waited for him to come in, but I needn’t have worried. Let me mention that if I was to create the perfect plastic surgeon for me, it would be Dr K—he has the most laid-back bedside manner ever, but he’s a total perfectionist in the operating room. If you are going to have someone rearrange your body, you want someone who is so OCD that even his sock drawer is color coordinated. Right?
He took a very long look at my body, starting with my legs and ending with my boobs, which were at the very, very end of my list because I didn’t think they were affecting my ability to run. After all the weight loss and gain, and loss and gain, and finally loss again, and then all the breast feeding, I had just resigned myself to the fact that my boobs would be DD windsocks hanging out near my knees unless I was wearing a very powerful and very expensive bra.
I’m not really sure why I didn’t see another option, or why I wasn’t that excited about a change in that region, but I guess because my legs were so chafed and painful they needed the most urgent attention. Maybe I had subconsciously given up on my boobs? They didn’t really do much for me at this point. My legs, my arms ... nowthosewere doing something for me on a daily basis—and not always good. When I reflect back I feel a bit bad for my poor boobs; they weren’t even really on my radar. But then when Dr. K looked at my list he suggested that I get totally naked so he could do his assessment—have I mentioned Dr. K isn’t hard on the eyes?
So there I was totally naked with my husband and Dr. K in the consultation room—hey now, I know what you’re thinking ... get your mind out of the gutter, people! (insert eye-roll/giggle emoji here) Dr. K takes one look at my body and says “Nope, we need to do your boobs.”
Boobs?Really?Did he have a secret meeting with my husband prior to his consult? Did he not see the total disaster that are my legs?
Over the next hour he reprioritized my list. He showed me pictures. He gave me the best possible scenarios and the worst. He listened to me. He said he would do whatever he could to make my body as functional as possible for what I wanted to do with it. Then he shook my hand and my husband’s and walked out.
Which was when I took off my muted green hospital gown and started to cry. Now, I’m not at all a big crier—in fact, I’m one of those odd women who didn’t even cry much during all of my pregnancies. But something about that meeting, something about talking about each part of my body and what it had been through had me in quite a state. I needed a glass of dry red wine, or two. Or three ...
Jack, in his usual wonderful and lovely way, said that he would support whatever I wanted to do. He’s the sort of husband who just wants me to be happy, probably at least in part because that usually means he gets more sex. He’s pretty simple that way. So I told him I wanted to think about it, pray about it, talk to my regular doctor about it, and also consult my good friend Google for horrible photos and videos ... because that’s what any normal person contemplating elective surgery does, right?
Now, I’m going to warn you that drinking wine while looking up said photos and videos IS NOT A GOOD IDEA! I ended up watching a video where some guy’s nipples had to be taken completely off, and then they turned black andDIED. I’m not even joking. DO NOT look that up right now. Trust me, don’t—it’s horrible. I was sure the same thing would happen to me, that I’d be forced to live the remainder of my life without nipples, or with cadaver nipples, or pepperoni nipples ... this was where my wine-soaked mind was wandering. So, I decided it might be a good idea to talk to my GP, Dr. P at my next appointment in a few weeks time. The Internet searches on this stuff were not helping.
Important side note: finding good doctors isn’t always easy. It is time consuming for one thing, but it is ALWAYS worth it to make the extra effort. You want the best people giving you advice and suggestions about your body and health.Youpaythem, so don’t settle for a doctor who wants to prescribe another pill. Find a doctor who is also concerned about your nutrition, your physical movement and strength. My primary care doctor, Dr. P, is the sweetest little thing. She’s younger than I am and she did some of her medical school coursework in eating disorders and body image. She’s wonderful, and absolutely what I need in a primary care physician.
Anyway, when I talked to Dr. P about my list and Dr. K’s suggestions she completely agreed with him. I couldn’t believe it. She said she believes that breast reduction and reconstruction is almost always a good idea if you are over a D-cup and/or have experienced significant weight loss. She said that of all the plastic surgery she’s seen done, that a breast reduction has one of the greatest results. She also commented about how wonderful it would be for my running and my back.
I didn’t really believe her, to be totally honest. My focus was always on my legs and lungs when I was running—my boobs never even entered the equation. I guess I just needed to think about it more. Did I really want to give up my amazing collection of super-strength bras? I already had all the matching panties. Would it really matter to me in the long run? Did I really have back issues I was ignoring? Or would they eventually appear? I just wasn’t convinced. Why hadn’t Dr. K just agreed with my leg plan? Why was everyone so keen on rearranging the windsocks? I was baffled.
So I waited until I was convinced. I would like to say I waited a week, but it didn’t even take me that long. Jack and I were having marital time and both he and I were trying to maneuver the windsocks, which were sore from being chafed from running even while wearing one of the best running bras you can buy. This led me to the realization that this problem might be a bit worse than I had acknowledged. Ugh! So I called Dr. K to see if he would talk to me again.
I wanted to ask him about this black nipple/pepperoni thing face-to-face to make sure he hadn’t ever done anything like that. Dr. K was shocked to hear about the black nipple video and I had to admit to him that I had been searching for these things on the Internet. When I told him it was from a reality TV show his face displayed some disappointment in me.
“Don’t you watch reality TV, Dr. K?” I asked.
“No, I don’t,” he replied.
“Wow, Dr. K, you’re missing out!” I said. “THE REAL HOUSEWIVESis a must watch.”
He just smiled and nodded at me. I guess it might be a good thing that he doesn’t have time for such things ... he’s busy golfing and restoring antique boats, you know, all the things normal plastic surgeons do, right? After he assured me that my nipples probably wouldn’t die, I decided I wanted to go through with the breast reduction surgery. He also told me this procedure was by far the easiest. He said I wouldn’t need much recovery time and figured it would only slow me down for a few days. Sounded good to me. Let’s just ease into this, right?
The surgery took place in the early morning a few months later. Dr. K wasn’t feeling great, but he was a trooper. He spent a good half hour on his knees in the prep room drawing all over my boobs until he had the perfect map to make things right. Now I bet some of you might be wondering at this point why in the world I’m sharing this story; it’s so personal and so uncomfortable. Well, here’s why.
This surgery, this act of bravery, gave me something I could have never imagined. Magic happened during that surgery. I came out a whole new woman. I know it sounds crazy, but having that surgery gave me so much that I felt the need to share, so other women who might consider this surgery for themselves will have a story from a friend that might give them comfort or support before making their decision.
Even when I walked in and lay down on the table, I didn’t think this surgery was going to do much. Sure it might take some weight off, it might help with my under-boob irritation, and it might save me from back issues down the road, but I had no clue what having 44DD breasts for most of my life had really done to me, how they had literally weighed me down.
Of all of the surgeries I’ve ever had this was, by far, the easiest for me. So easy that I actually left the outpatient surgery center only an hour or two after it was complete. The pain was pretty minimal and I used some pain management, but not as much as I had expected. I spent the afternoon in my own bed resting, and by the next morning I was feeling pretty good. Now, I have to say that I think my pain tolerance might be a bit higher than most people’s but, still, this wasn’t bad AT ALL.
When the bandages finally came off and I looked up at my husband’s big eyes and saw his two thumbs up, I could see that he was excited about it, too.
I couldn’t run for several weeks because I was healing, so when I was finally able to get out and run I couldn’t believe the difference in how my body felt. I didn’t have the upper back pain I usually felt right when I would start out. My whole upper body felt so much lighter. I think I might have actually leapt a few times like a gazelle! During my first three-mile run with my new boobs I cut about three whole minutes off my average run time. I know that might not sound like a big difference, but to me it was HUGE. That and the way my body felt after running with the new girls caused me to break out into tears of joy.
The weight I lost from this surgery honestly wasn’t much at all. Maybe a few ounces? But what I gained from that procedure was crazy. I felt like a totally new me, a lighter me. It might sound corny, but it wasn’t just that I didn’t have that heaviness on my chest, but I also lost a heaviness in my heart.
Those old boobs had been important to me even when they became very disfigured. Those boobs had fed my children, had been part of the body that loved my husband, they’d been with me in the highs and lows, they’d hugged friends and family, and they’d kept my hands warm at night, but these new boobs, these ones ... they were fuckingaerodynamic. These babies were Jasinda Boobs 2.0, and I was going to do things with them I couldn’t even have imagined before. They were the start of finding my strong.
Thank you Dr. K, you were so right. Boobs for the win!
PRO TIP: If you decide you want to get some sort of surgical help, be sure to talk to several surgeons to see what they suggest, and ask lots of questions. This is really an art form, and each surgeon has slightly different ideas and approaches on what is best. I know I was surprised by some of the different advice I received.
