breast reduction surgery

My Breast Reduction Story – A Secret I No Longer Can Keep

These past thirteen years have been a living hell for me.

When I was 10, I noticed that my physique was beginning to change. At the age of eleven, my entire body had already begun the process of puberty in full swing. My feelings were all over the place, and the reflection in the mirror gave me a quite different impression of myself. By the time I was 13, I already had a nice couple of B-cups, and I was learning to love the curves that were appearing on my body. In addition to this, the width of my hips increased, and I was no longer a short flagpole anymore. I was like a short stuffed animal, just from the right places. I loved the way I looked.

By the time I was 14, I had gone from having B-cups to D-cups. You should now be able to see where this is going. My bra size was a 70K by the time I was 16 years old.

It’s a dangerous mix to be going through high school while simultaneously trying to figure out who you are as an adult while still having fun and surviving the experience of being a teenager. Or at least that’s how it was for me. My little sister doesn’t appear to have any issues with the size of her breasts, at least what I can see from her Instagram pictures However, the way I saw my body until the golden three years in the high school began to change. I started hiding.

But why would you want them to disappear? I’d pay for a pair of those.

I was concealing myself with loose clothing. I am sneaking around behind the desks. I had a habit of putting my bag on my lap whenever I sat down in a public location, and I bought big bags because of it. Whenever I sat down in a location other than a classroom, I always had a bag on the lap that I was using. My breasts expanded so rapidly that I was never given the opportunity to adjust to them or discover how to live with them. But I had no idea that sharing a home with them would be the very definition of a living hell.

Throughout my time in high school, there was this one guy who constantly brought me down and made me feel more worse about myself than I already did. I can see why people would think that because at that age, boobs are the most interesting thing, and I’m pretty sure that he played this cocky role all throughout high school. However, there was not an acceptable reason for him to call me “Boobsie” in front of other people whenever we crossed paths in the hallway. It’s not that I’m upset with him or anything like that; he just had a significant impact on how I perceived myself. It’s not that I wasn’t hiding before, but I wanted to hide more effectively. I started shopping for garments that were even baggier than the ones I already owned.

When I was in the eighth grade, in 2012, I took a trip to Malta for three weeks. There, I really wound up meeting my now husband. There was this one girl who was going through the same thing that I was, and we talked about it during that summer when I was visiting her because we were both going through the same thing. Even though we shared a room in Malta, we haven’t talked to each other in a really long time. However, I believe that if we just started chatting with each other again, it would be as if these years hadn’t been between us. She is important to my narrative as well since she let me understand that I was not the only one in my situation. It’s not just me who is being negatively affected by this and how it makes me feel; other people are, too. That brought a huge sense of relief.

You should be happy, not all of us are that lucky. I would do anything to have breasts like yours.

Let’s fast forward to when I was 16 years old. I relocated around 320 miles away, starting what I considered to be a new life. I was more than ready to start a new life far away from the location I used to live and away from all of the family drama that we were going through as that year and the several years before it progressed because a lot had happened during that year and several years before it. Sometimes I wonder whether it wouldn’t have been better for my sister if I had stayed (maybe she wouldn’t be in such a precarious position as she is now), but the reality is that if I had stayed, I probably would have ended up taking my own life. Despite the fact that it has nothing to do with the subject of this blog article, we will save that anecdote for another time. When it comes to story time, I don’t feel comfortable sharing it with anyone.

Everything ran perfectly from the very beginning. The new people I met either did not comment on the way I looked or did not even look at my breasts, at least the ones that were still hanging out. It didn’t bother me in the least. I realised for the first time that there were people who were interested in getting to know me and talking to me for reasons unrelated to the way I appeared. There was just one minor point to consider. There was this one little detail.

My back started falling apart. It had been like this since I achieved DD’s, but this was worse. Since the age of 17, a pain-free day has been more like an exception than a norm. I struggled to get up from the bed. I knew why I was in pain so I didn’t go to the doctor, as all they had ever helped me was telling me that the pain will go away with painkillers, I should lose weight to achieve smaller breasts and go to a massage therapist to get my back knots open. Fun fact tho, none of those helped. Except for the painkillers but I can’t take them every single day, can I?

breast reduction surgery = the plastic surgery procedure for reducing the size of large breasts. These are done if the size of your breasts effects to your physical health. These are also done if you just don’t like your titties.

So I got numb. I got numb physically. There have been days I haven’t gotten up from the bed because of the pain. Then I’ve just asked J to bring me a painkiller so I could get up and go to work or school. I learned to hide the pain, it’s something that can’t be seen from the outside as long as I don’t tell anyone how much in pain I am. I pretended I was okay, even though deep inside I was in a massive pain for every single minute of the day and 24/7 of my time.

When I was 17 years old, I started working at a different job. Apart from the school, in order for me to be able to pay my bills. I began my career by taking a position as a telemarketing, and I continued working in that capacity for more than a year and a half, to be more precise. It was wonderful, and I had a lot of fun doing it. However, it did start to worry me out since despite the fact that I was good at it, there was always room for improvement in order to keep one’s work. When clients make statements such as “you whore, if you phone me ever again attempting to sell me that crappy magazine I will come to your door and I will kill you, you piece of garbage,” this is another red flag. That’s right, I heard that pretty much every other day.

Why my workplace is in this story? It had been a whole year since anyone had commented on my breasts, and this was the very first time anyone had done so. There was this man in his middle years. I don’t know if it’s because his wife doesn’t allows him to come near her (though I find it hard to imagine he even had a wife) or what the issue was with him, but he seemed to have an excessive amount of interest in my breasts.

Hey, can you get the tip of your elbows together? Show me!

No, I won’t show you and yes, I can. Every time he was at work he had this massive need to talk to my breasts, talk about my breasts and even though I asked him to leave me alone he was just an idiot. He slowly pushed me back to that hole I had been climbing up for a little over a year.

That’s when I truly started the battle with my self-esteem and was in a war with my own body. Opponent: breasts and breasts were winning.
I felt like a huge piece of boob. I have cried countless of hours because of them. In fitting rooms, next to my closet, in my closet – everywhere. I haven’t been happy. Several times I’ve actually stood in the kitchen with scissors in my hand ready to cut them away. Why? Because no one I’ve ever told has understood. No one I’ve ever told hasn’t taken me seriously.

My husband J did.

Imagine how big they will grow when you get pregnant.

After we found out for the second time that we were having a baby I started to love my body. I was capable of doing something I never thought I was, especially after summer 2017. When the baby belly started to show, I saw how beautiful my body was now when everything was in in the right scale. My breasts didn’t grow during the pregnancy at all. Thankfully.

After the pregnancy, breastfeeding wasn’t working at all. Thanks to the K-cups, I would have needed someone to help me feed my son. I was told the baby could suffocate because my breasts are so huge. We went through every single possible feeding position but wasn’t able to find one that I was able to do alone. That is when I hit the rock bottom. I don’t know if I wasn’t clear in the blog post I wrote about our breastfeeding journey because I clearly stated that I’m not talking about double D’s. One of the comments was something like this:

“You obviously didn’t have much support because I’ve got D’s and I was perfectly able to breastfeed my kid.”

Like yeah, I wish I had D’s. D’s aren’t even big.

Long story short, J insisted me on going to the doctor. So I went and took my mum with me. Every 22-year-old takes mums to the doctor’s with them right? Anyhow, the doctor said that I need the help. She said that my back would not be able to carry this weight.

100 points out of 100.

We have this point system. You have to get 50/100 so they would even plan to make the surgery. How these points are counted?
Jugulum-mamilla measurement (from your neck to your nipple):

  • 40 points, if it’s under 27cm
  • 50 points, if it’s 27-31cm
  • 60 points, if it’s over 31cm

You’re having troubles with your back of the neck & shoulders:

  • 0 points, when your BMI is over 35
  • 10 points, when your BMI is 30-35
  • 20 points, when your BMI is under 30

Limitation of physical ability:

  • 0 points, when your BMI is over 35
  • 10 points, when your BMI is 30-35
  • 20 points, when your BMI is under 30

And this is on the public side, I could have gone to the private clinic but it would have cost me $5000 – $10000. Usually, they will ask you to do different things before they put you in the queue, losing weight for example. I was told that I should not lose any more weight than I’ve already had because I’m slightly underweight. That also means that my breasts are full of overgrown mammary gland & almost no fat at all. So losing weight in my situation would be pointless, as it wouldn’t help.

On 22nd of June, I had an appointment with another doctor. She told me I was put on the queue and my possible surgery will most likely to be scheduled for October or November. And two weeks ago I had a call that my surgery was scheduled for 30th of August.

Oh, and if you’re still saying it’s not hell to live with large breasts, try to carry 2-litre milk bottles in your bra for at least a week and then get here again and say it’s not that bad. 

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