October is breast cancer awareness month, and there’s never been a better time to care about your tatas. With women’s health care in deep uncertainty, being constantly depleted and undermined by the men in office making decisions about organs they don’t have, it’s important to know thyself and know thyshelf. In my case, I knew I needed to get a breast reduction.
It was the breast of times, it was the worst of times. I was in 7th grade and blooming like a hibiscus. While all the other girls around me were struggling with their breast size and self-image, I was comfortably in the B, even C, cup range. I felt good, but I also didn’t care much about it. My job wasn’t to be sexy at 13. However, sometimes I would wear something or see a picture of myself that revealed cleavage–actual, literal cleave–and it jolted me.
A picture of me at 13. This is without a bra. (2012)
I had been wearing bras, but just whatever ones fit. I decided to actually get measured when I was 13 and took my first trip to Victoria’s Secret. When I went to go get fitted, the worker told me I was in between a D and a DD. I was SHOOK. I told her, “that can’t be right, I’m in 8th grade.” she shrugged and sent me away with no bra, because I was too shocked to try anything else on.
My mother carefully told me about something called a breast reduction, which to me sounded like a “take away all your assets” surgery. I waved it off and just kept growing, happy to be known as “the girl with big boobs.”
My 8th grade formal; I’m on the left in the mint green dress. I developed much quicker than the other girls in 8th grade. (2013)
When high school rolled around, I realized having big boobs was harder than it looked. While I got to befriend many older guys (gross), it became harder to find clothes that fit. I couldn’t find swimsuits or bras. Victoria’s Secret, which force fed images of large-chested women, didn’t carry ones large enough to fit me. Eventually, all of the fun parts of having huge boobs got outweighed (ba dum tiss) by all the negatives.
Freshman homecoming, I had to wear a corset which lifted and compressed my chest so I could wear a strapless dress. I was 15. (2014)
In three years, I went from a perky 34B-C cup to a 34GGG. Triple G. As a sixteen year old.
They were not perky, nor cute, nor easy to support against the unforgiving law of gravity. I had no bras that fit, my shoulders would get rubbed raw from my industrial bra straps, I would get sweat rashes underneath my boobs, and I couldn’t walk down the stairs or work out with any sort of speed without bruising from the weight of my chest. One of my upper ribs even grew in deformed from the excessive weight, and I had legitimate trouble breathing. Against my 4’11 frame, my back stood no chance. My mom again, almost five years later, encouraged me to get a reduction.
My boobs might be poppin, but they’re nothing in comparison to my sister’s doggie hat. (2015)
Before I made the decision, I was very ten-tit-ive (not sorry). I did a lot of research on the process and the recovery and the side effects, and I found that it was the surgery with the highest rate of approval and success. Every woman who had one loved it, and everyone recommended it. I found a doctor I liked, and we set a date during Christmas break, so I wouldn’t miss too much school during recovery. I had just turned 17.
The surgery took a little over two hours, and I woke up by taking my first full breath. After they had taken out three pounds of tissue, the literal weight off my chest allowed me to breath normally for the first time in three years. I didn’t have any pain, I slept in the hospital overnight and went home the next day. After the swelling reduced, I was a 34DD.
#NewYearNewMe
Recovery was easy; I layed in bed with my hospital sippy cup, my ice packs, and a few muscle relaxers and slept a lot. After a week and a half, I felt mostly healed and went back to school. My doctor told me to not wear a bra, as constriction would increase bleeding, and I loved it more than words could describe. After having to wear special order corset bras and two sports bras, Not wearing a bra was a miracle.
Life only got better. I shopped for prom dresses and fit perfectly in to all of them, I got cute swim suit tops with the matching bottoms, and I had no more back pain or shortness of breath. I was so incredibly happy, and fully believe it was the best decision I’ve ever made.
Me Freshman year (34F) and me end of Junior year (34DD)
When it comes time to be aware of and make important decisions about our body, we have to know what’s best for ourselves. It’s vital to be aware of the options we have to us and to promote women’s health care by supporting those people and facilities that offer it. Thankfully, my surgery was covered by my health insurance, and what would have been a $19,000 was $25. I was very lucky, and I am very happy.
Also, I got to take this iconic picture: