I'm not sure I can count on this or if it is just rising estrogen and testosterone in my cycle, the ebb and flow of my personal tide.
I still feel the ache, I still get teary or just cry, but something has shifted a little. I feel I am moving forward a little. I'm forming plans, setting goals. I want to take ownership of my life.
I've decided, for at least the next year, to stay full time at work. I rent my station at work. I think I can work some classes here and there into my schedule and just shift my bookings to accommodate. I may also be committing myself to relieving the owner on Monday's so she can have two days off a week. As it stands, she is the only one with a key. In order to have a key we're required to pay an extra $50 per month. I understand her thoughts behind this, it was something I struggled with when choosing this salon. No key, working within set hours. I've made it work. To be asked to help her in this after just a year, to be offered this trust... well, it's necessary for her to take time for herself and her family, and I'm flattered she'd offer me the opportunity. Salons are typically not open on Monday's. I'd have responsibility and an opportunity to grow here. More than likely I'll be bored outside of my own scheduled clientele so I'll bring a dvd player, a book... fill up the non-working time.
My next goal, get my debt paid off. It's doable and I am focused.
Next, start saving some money, even if it is only $50 per month.
Next, and this is just something that has been bothering me for a long time...
Several years ago, when I was married to my sons father, I went under the knife and got breast implants. The simple truth, I felt insecure about my body. Sort of an obvious statement I know. I'd always been insecure about my breasts being A-symmetrical. I know, all women without enhancement are to some degree. It was something I felt uncomfortable with. I'd also nursed my sons about four years between the two of them.
Looking back even after the nursing my breasts were still pretty... but all I could see was what bothered me.
I chose a doctor after some research. When I went his assistant was was so comfortable with the routine of her job she didn't recognize the individual. She touched me without taking a moment to indicate she would, even my OB's do that every time. She indicated I needed a lift on my right breast, then the implants, blahblahblah.
My husband is a cheap and selfish man. He indulges himself well but doesn't see the necessity to consider others. This was the first thing in our marriage I'd asked for and he actually made it a miserable experience. After the initial consult where the Dr and my husband encouraged me to get double D implants (as that was the size I'd increased to when I was nursing) he was such a jerk on the way home I cried instead of feeling excited. I think I can honestly say this was the beginning of our end for me. His selfishness was highlighted and magnified that day.
After I did all the prepping myself, after the surgery, he drove me and our sons to my mother's where she did post op care.
Maybe that is too much information, but it's in my head and I guess I need to put it down, I guess I need the 'conversation'. I'm not one of those women that pretends I don't have implants (and yep, they are too big IMO but most people don't realize they are implants), I don't exactly advertise it either.
I'm average height, petite and a bit curvy in shape.
What drives me these days is in photographs I see fine-boned shoulders, and face, and torso... and these massive, misplaced boobs.
For a long time now I have wanted to remove the implants. John loved my breasts. I guess he was like a lot of guys. Honestly, I can't stand them.
Instead of having my right breast lifted and balanced with my left, due to the money my husband allotted me I chose a larger implant in the smaller breast, and a smaller one in the larger breast. While they are the same size and I don't feel the need to 'stuff' the left breast since I had the surgery, I am still asymmetrical.
Interestingly I am a statistic. Most women that get implants decide to have them removed or reduced later.
I hate being a statistic. I think that drive to not be one has continually set me wrecking into being just that.
So, I'll own it. I'm over it. I want my B cups back. I want my body back to what it was.
I just have to figure out how to make that happen.
The need to do this is just growing exponentially as the days go on. I fantasize about going to a casino (I haven't ever been, btw) and winning enough to pay off my credit cards and afford doing whatever needs to be done to my breasts!
Something else I will admit. I dislike my breasts so much I don't want to be touched. Perhaps much of this feeling is not my breasts but my continuing grief of my relationship with and loss of John. The plain truth is this, the implants didn't make me more secure, they made me less so. Also, I think the surgeon that did them is a Douche of the highest order. He took a fast 5K and didn't advise me properly when I asked him pointed questions and at the time I didn't have the confidence to push for those answers. I did what I always did back then, I took what was offered and tried to make the best of it.
It is interesting and kind of sad to look back at that me. I wish I could advise her. I would advise that young woman that larger breasts wouldn't make her feel more like a woman. To at most get the lift of both and reduction of the right breast, that time would prove to her the power of what she'd become.
I have a few goals, a road to travel, a lifetime of learning and experiences left to me... and I feel my boobs are a sort of albatross. (I'm laughing a little to myself at this)
The casino fantasy plays its mental stage of flashing lights and musical bell tones in my hopeful 'get what I want NOW' image of moving my wants into place...
Oh well... in the end it is probably meaningless. Just thinking with my keyboard. I'm not even going to proof read it. I have something else I need to take care of right now.
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