Yes, This Girl's Gone Wild.

I suppose it's time we talk about it.. yes, I finally decided.

We all have our reasons, and if you were to ask me 10 years ago why breast augmentation was on my 'to-do' list, I would have given you a completely different answer than now. Back then, I just wanted to be 'normal'. Growing up with a chest deformity makes ballet class and clothes shopping constant reminders that you are different, and no teenager wants to be different unless it's on their own terms.

Back then, the average doctor knew so little about Pectus Carinatum that it was written off as a harmless, cosmetic, growth-related defect that caused the chest to bow out like a pigeon's. The only research that my parents ever found were about affected males, since the condition affects boys 3:1 over girls. I was told I'd grow out of it, it wouldn't cause any problems and that I should learn to love myself the way I was.

So I did just that. I grew up, got a job, went to college... and then my new doctor mentioned to me at one of my many appointments that the constant upper respiratory infections and breathing trouble might be more than just bad luck. He suggested I look around for an opinion about my chest wall deformity and I searched on the internet. Because serendipity was on my side, I found the only surgeon with published research on PC in California, and got laid off from my job right after, so I scheduled the first surgery that would change my life. Dr. Fonkalsrud published research that proved that PC patients can't move their ribs and never completely exhale, leaving them persistently starved for oxygen. In May 2005, I flew to California to have an open chest deformity repair procedure.
The next few months were seriously uncomfortable. The surgery involved removing sections of the cartilage between the sternum and 4 ribs on both sides, with an implanted brace to allow the structure to heal in the right place. Immediately after waking up from the surgery, my life was different. I awoke in a dark hospital room with a start, as for the first time in my 23 years on earth... my ribcage moved when I breathed. I remember taking several tiny breaths and then nearly hyperventilating because of the strange painful sensation.
I fought with insurance companies, I struggled with healing, learned to lean into pain, and after the subsequent surgeries to fix a few more ribs and remove the brace, my favorite side effect was being a 32A instead of a 34-36AA. I had tiny boobs where there was nothing before.
There were some cosmetic improvements, to be sure. In a t-shirt, I looked like a 'normal' skinny girl. I was able to find bras at some department stores. But the costs were pretty high too, I couldn't wear such a bra for a year because I had a 6-inch piece of stainless steel under my skin, right where the bra sat. I have a scar that runs down the center of my chest and under each breast like an upside-down 'Y', and two more below where drains were attached for a week. I have no feeling in a patch that runs from one nipple to the other and all in between, except for a lightning-bolt once in a while when my bra moves the wrong way. The scars may be deeper than you can see as well, I'm terrified of drowning now... after waking up with my drains full and not being able to breathe - literally drowning in my own body.

I can't tell you how ironic I find the fact that after all that mutilation and scarring, the insurance deemed the surgery 'Cosmetic' and refused to pay.

Now, several years later, I finally decided it was time for me to have a breast augmentation.

As you know, I struggled with this decision, because I really have worked my entire life on loving my body the way it was.. imperfect and unique. I learned how to stand up straight and throw my flat chest up in the air like a supermodel. I have beautiful legs, very few stretch marks, shapely arms and even pretty nice feet. I was stoked when I gained some weight with age and got a curvy butt to go along with everything. But I still wanted to be 'even'. I want to buy a dress instead of separates because the top is too big when the bottom fits. Still, I tossed on a ruffled blouse and asked myself what I would tell my daughter, or my niece if they weren't happy with their bodies.. would I tell them to love their unique figures? More than little girls, what kind of message was I giving all my girlfriends who had ever had a glass of wine at my house and complained about their big thighs or their weak chin?

One day I just woke up in a particularly selfish mood, and decided I had struggled with the decision long enough, and it was time to pull the trigger. Clearly I want them, since breast augmentation has been in my plans since I was 11 and first realized I had missed the boob train. In that moment of clarity, I knew what I would tell anyone who ever complained about their bodies around me again... worry about it for 10 years or so, and then do whatever you can to change it. Live the rest of your life worrying about something else.

The rest is history. I had my surgery May 27. I deserved this, and it's another beautiful change in my life. Most people don't even notice if they don't know I had it done, and that's probably best, since I didn't do this to attract attention. I'm a tall girl, and they 'fit' my figure. I'm not sure what I expected, probably to wake up with stripper ball boobs... but what I ended up with are natural looking and unless you're looking for something wrong, they look perfectly even and normal.

More than any of that though, what I bought myself was control. Life is not about what you have or don't have, what you conquer or fall victim to, it's about how you are all of those things RIGHT NOW. And right now, I'm typing this blog post behind a perfect rack, that I earned. And you know what else I earned? The right to say what's best for me. From now on, I follow my rule... what else am I counting down toward 10 years on?

and right now, they are measuring 32DD for those of you asking the big question, although they look nowhere near that big. To honesty, in the present!

On another note... today my friend Perry is in my heart. His strength inspired me to say a prayer for the first time in many years. And even though I'm not really sure who I offered the prayer up to, I know where it came from, and I'm sending that same love to his family. It's an honor to witness the passing of a soul from this life to the next, but a burden as well and he's carrying more than his share.