Currently Chasing: A Boob Job

I used to be obsessed with a Tummy Tuck. I would talk about it, research it, look at before and after pictures and talk to people who had the procedure done. I wanted to know everything. I even went to a doctor and had him look me up and down and tell me what he could do for me.

But then one day while I was talking about it with a friend of mine, my daughter overheard. She said, mom, what is wrong with your stomach? How come you don’t like it? I told her there were lines on it called stretch marks and I didn’t like them. She asked me how they got there…I told her I got them from having her inside me. She thought about it for a minute and then said, so you don’t like the lines that I gave you?

The shear fact that she turned these hideous stretch marks into evidence of one of my greatest accomplishments floored me. But the look on her face was priceless. She was concerned that I wanted to ‘erase’ what she worked for nine months to give me. So I stopped thinking so much about the Tummy Tuck and eventually it was out of my mind.

The other day someone took a picture of me … and for once I wasn’t complaining that I looked fat. I wasn’t getting pissed at myself for not sucking in well enough. I wasn’t hitting delete a hundred times and cropping like a crazy person to just keep the focus on the cute face…I was actually ‘dare I say’ happy with the photo. Except for one thing.  My BOOBS!

It seems like with a little weight loss comes the reality that not all of it is weight you WANT to lose. Some of it is weight you’d like to keep … But you don’t get to pick and choose where you lose, and unfortunately my chest has suffered a loss.  

This was just a year ago! There it was, in all its GLORY -  My cleavage!

I can also blame some of it on the sports bras. It’s really all I wear out here so my poor girls are smashed often and always. There was a time when I was younger when I had healthy, huge boobs. I never locked em up. In fact, I jumped on a trampoline once for a few hours without the proper support and broke all the blood vessels in my chest. I had to wrap those puppies in ace bandages and soak them in ice. I had some crazy 20 hook bra that I had to wear just to keep those things in place.  Now I think I could jump hours without fear that the two would ever meet.

Meanwhile my roommate is running around with a full rack. Every time I turn around she is reminding me that she needs to put on two sports bras due to her voluptuous womanhood.  She’ll look at a picture of herself and say things like “Oh my God…my boobs look huge.” I’ve got news, they don’t just look huge…they’ve got a damn zip code.

So lately I’ve been thinking..what if I just ‘enhanced’ a bit? Would it be so bad? A friend of mine said … well, think about it. Once they are fake, they are just that…fake. But so are my highlights…and my lips aren’t really paradise pink…and I wasn’t born with sparkle eye shadow on my eyes. And last time I checked…nails weren’t actually made out of acrylic. And oh yeah..i’m not really this tall…It’s the shoes. So much of what we do already is … fake.

I’m not saying I want double Ds. I would be happy with single Cs. I’m only asking for what I’ve already had. And it may ‘naturally’ offset my ass a bit and cause a little more proportion…

So I’m pretty sure I want a boob job. That is unless my daughter decides to make me feel bad about changing her infant sippy cups. Come on kid, something’s gotta give.