As the 4th anniversary of my new breasts fast approaches, I realised I’d never actually written about them and the whole experience. Which, as a writer, is weird.
Getting a boob job and ‘having fake tits’ has many complexities that come with it (or them), so I thought I’d break it down and go through the entire process and answer all the questions EVERYONE has regarding the procedure, in what will basically be referred to as my series of tit queries.
Let’s kick things off with the first question I get…
WHY DID I GET A BOOB JOB?
I always wanted them as a kid…
Ever since I was a little girl, I wanted boobs. I LOVED boobs from a very young age and couldn’t wait till I got some. I remember getting my first batch of little pubes and was so excited because I thought that this sign of puberty meant little nublets would be incoming too. A few of the girls in my year 6 class had small boobs and I was SO jealous that they got proper bras while I was still stuck in crop tops (which, to be fair were also highly unnecessary given I was a lanky 11-year-old and had only nipples on bone at this point).
I insisted on a bra so my mum let me have one of those ‘beginner bras’ (bless her) and I was so excited at a coed slumber party to take off my shirt and show everyone my bra, feeling like such a grown-up. This was quickly disparaged by a lurking adult who yelled at us from another room that we were ‘too young for such nonsense’.
I can’t remember exactly when I got baby boobs in early high-school years, but they sure weren’t anything to write home about. We had a strict private school uniform, so under my pleated, plaid dress each and every day, I would begin the 10-minute affair of packing my bra with socks and multiple tissues to get a ‘realistic’ effect.
I don’t know why I was obsessed with having boobs from such a young age, no one else I knew cared so much or padded their bra. My best friend was sporty and used to rock her baby boobies with the confidence of someone far older than her young years – a trait I know she’ll pass onto her own children and hopefully mine. I was always very interested in pop-culture as a youth; my room was covered with posters and I cried when I met my fave stars from Home & Away at the annual Nabiac Fun Run (note: I did NOT run).
So maybe it was my obsession with celebrity and countless hours pouring over glossy magazines that subconsciously embedded the perpetuation of the stereotypical ‘perfect’ female’? Or was it because my mum and aunties and grandmas had boobs? Or maybe it was a sexual thing? I have no idea but I do know that I’d wanted boobies since I was a wee lass.
And as an adult…
As an adult at uni, I remember talking about how one day I would get my boobs done. Not to everyone but I used to joke about it to close friends and boyfriends and many people would scoff at me.
I think it’s also interesting to note how pre-boobs I would hunch over in pics or deliberately cover my chest area. I didn’t even realise just how self-conscious I was until I started looking through old pics for this series. And it wasn’t just in pics, I remember the anxiety before I would get naked with someone for the first time, so worried about what they would think of my small boobs. Which was stemmed from my own stupidity in how I was still dressing TBH, with my vast array of fillets, padded bras and the like; I was the master in creating the illusion of big juicy tatas.
I was 27 when I finally bit the bullet and I’m actually so grateful I waited as long as I did because I was a proper adult. I’ll get more into that at a later date but getting a boob job is so much more than a ‘simple procedure’, it completely changes your life. So I’m bloody grateful I had the maturity I did when I got them done.
It was May 2015, I was lying awake one night and I actually just got really mad at myself. I was SO cross that I’d been speaking about doing something for so long with absolutely no action. Everything I wrote above was exactly what I’d been feeling and saying my entire life but I hadn’t done anything about it!? I was one of those people who just whine about things and never do anything about it. I WAS A CHRONIC WHINGER!
So the following day I rang up and booked in for an appointment with a surgeon I literally just picked off the web. In hindsight, not the smartest thing I’ve done, but so be it. I confirmed an appointment for the following month and then decided I may as well just bloody book in the surgery ASAP so I wouldn’t have to wait. So yes, without even consulting with a DR, I had booked both my consult AND my surgery.
To be continued…