If you know me in real life, you know that during spring break, I had breast augmentation surgery- my second. What most of you don't know is that already, a little more than 3 1/2 months later, I'm looking at my third boob surgery. And that is just fucked up.
What's fucked up mostly is that I was born with boobs- the free kind. If I have the next surgery, I'll have boobs that cost more than $18K. And even for me, who never met a luxury I couldn't justify, that is ridiculous.
The reason I need another surgery is because of a little something called 'capsular contracture' which is another more fancy term for 'wonky boobs.' They look ok in a shirt, but in a bikini top? Wonky. Totally fucking wonky. (and I don't mind admitting this to you, dear friend, because NOTHING about me is normal anyway- I'm so used to it by now) Do wonky looking boobs bother me? No, not really. The main problem is how bad they hurt- like some asshole is completely pissed at you, only instead of punching you in the face they're twisting the muscle behind your implant. Really, really hard.
The worst thing is that even if I have the revision surgery, it's likely the capsular contracture will come back. So, you might be wondering, what on earth should I do??
I honestly don't know. I'm horribly shallow and have an insane desire to spend loads of money just trying to look a teeny bit better. But tonight, as I was researching breast augmentation revision surgery, I started to feel a little sick. Before my last surgery I googled 'Awake'- and if you're getting ready to have surgery, please don't do this- watching it necessitated a team of very strong and very determined nurses to get me into the operating room. And some extra drugs. (side note: you should ask Frank about this. I said something along the lines of "OHMYGOOOOODDDD FRANK, we should totally take some of this shit home with us!" I may have also said "This shit's totally AWWWEESOME!!!" I don't actually remember.)
Anyway, I started thinking about my favorite aunt, who battled evil in the form of breast cancer (she totally kicked its ASS! The women in my family are super human like that. During her last chemo treatment, she wore a feather boa and played a kazoo. I love that woman more than life itself!!!!) I started thinking about my aunt and about how cancer almost took her away from me before I was able to tell her how much I adore her and the ground she walks on. I thought about women everywhere- women fighting breast cancer, fighting autoimmune diseases, young girls fighting a bad self image or fighting abuse, women waging all kinds of wars everywhere. And me? The worst that's going on in my life is that my boobs are wonky. Really, Christine? That's all you've got?
Plus if you're just looking at boobs, then you're missing the best part of a woman. NO, I'm not talking about her girlie business- I'm talking about her heart.