Well this is it, the mother of all posts. My boob story.
When I was 12 years old I noticed that my right breast was a little bigger than my left one. I don't really remember what my initial thoughts were about this, probably because I didn't know what to think. The only thing I knew about breasts was that I liked seeing them on TV. I am a straight female Boob Man.
Unfortunately my right breast kept on growing. By the time I was 15 Lefty was still an A and Righty was a DD.
And there you have it. My secret.
Only a handful of people know this about me. I don't really like to go back there. In fact I don't really remember much. This is my attempt to try.
I remember I had to get up early to stuff my bra. In the beginning it was pretty easy to hide, but as Righty grew I had a rough time filling out Lefty. I usually wore around six or seven layers at once. The routine get-up was a regular bra with a shoulder pad and tissues, then two sports bras and a tight tank top. Sometimes I'd stuff tissues or paper towels in between the sports bras to round out the shape. I guess I didn't need all of that, but the last thing I wanted was for the tissues to pop out. Or, you know, anyone to notice how lopsided I was. I'm sure they didn't notice anything except the huge uniboob hiding under oversized striped Pacific Sunwear t-shirts and baggy Champion sweatshirts. It was my daily armor for a good two years.
I don't exactly remember when I told my mom. I'm guessing it was around my 15th birthday because I had my surgery that summer. She's not one to dick around.
My parents really did right by me. I am so grateful they immediately took action. My mom found an amazing doctor who wasn't looking to just throw an implant in Lefty and call it a day. He said my breasts were deformed, which sounds harsh but it was the truth. Righty was huge and saggy, not the perky breast a teenage girl should have (can I get arrested for writing that?). Lefty had this weird tubular shape. Not a fan. I tended to ignore her most of the time. She was the runt.
The doctor recommended I have reconstructive surgery first. In August 1993 I went under the knife for 4.5 hours so that he could reshape both breasts and reduce Righty. It was pretty hardcore. I remember waking up during the procedure and seeing things I did not need to see. Yikes!
The following February he put an implant into Lefty. I was finally even.
A few years later I was in the car listening to Howard Stern. Robin just had a breast reduction and was saying how the scars are pretty bad. Someone said she has frankenboobs. I nearly pissed myself. It was the best way to describe how mine looked. I decided it had to be the title of my book should I ever write about my experience. I know it's strange to consider publishing a book about something I rarely talk about, but I felt one day I'd share. A couple of years ago I read the comic Boobage by Monica Gallagher. I cried the whole time. While her story isn't the same, it confirmed I wanted to write mine soon. In fact, I emailed her that day to ask if she'd be interested in collaborating together. It obviously didn't work out, but I am so happy I read her book. She inspired me. I probably wouldn't be writing this now if it wasn't for her.
Anyways, I have frankenboobs. I'm so pale that the scars are still very noticeable, but I don't mind. Guys don't either. They just want to get laid.
Oh, guys. Hiding this in middle school and high school did not help my dating self-esteem. Self-esteem in general, but we'll get into that later. I was a big tomboy, so it's not like boys were asking me out all of the time but man, did I shut down. I couldn't take the chance of anyone seeing my lopsided breasts and eventually my scars. It was much safer if I didn't date at all. By college I felt more secure about hooking up (obviously, slut) and just told guys I had a breast reduction and left it at that. Again they didn't care. Most seemed to get turned on by the idea my breasts were even bigger than they are today. They always said it the same way, too. Pause, thoughts, then a soft, "So uh...how big were they?"
Needless to say liking boys back then was rough. Swimming sucked. So did trying on clothes in front of my friends, changing in the locker room, running bases in softball. My boobs were always on my mind, even when they weren't.
I really don't know how I dealt with this. My mom said I was so strong. I guess I had to be. My parents helped me fix my breasts, but they didn't know how to help fix me. I was all alone. I couldn't talk to my mom because she was such a basket-case and I was too embarrassed to talk to my dad. Any time I did talk to them about it they tried to console me by saying, "It's not that big of a deal. At least you didn't lose an arm or a leg." Really? THAT'S your answer? I understand they were only trying to put it in perspective, but I needed help coping. Making me feel like I couldn't be upset made it worse. I may not have been sick or dying, but it was still a heavy burden for me to deal with during my formative years. No wonder I have trouble trusting myself, my emotions, and people close to me.
The physical scars are nothing. I have no idea how deep the emotional scars run. I had low self-esteem before I even got my boobs, so this experience just made it plummet. I'm a good actress, though. I had a lot of friends, I had a lot of fun, but I suffered alone. I guess I still do. It wasn't until I started writing Thighs that I openly talked about my depression. The interesting part is I don't think I became depressed until AFTER my breasts were even. Sort of like post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD. P-TITS-D.
Once they were fixed my parents assumed I'd be the happiest kid on earth. I wasn't. All of a sudden my problem was gone, but the pain was still there. That's when I started drinking and doing drugs. I needed to feel something else.
Gosh it feels so good to write about this. As gay as it sounds, Thighs saves me. I feel like writing things out into the interverse helps me heal.
So why tell this story now? The pain in my breast this week is the implant. It popped. They only have a shelf-life of ten years and I got sixteen out of this one. I should have gone in for check ups of course, but I never did. I just wanted to forget this ever happened.
I'm not exactly sure when it burst. The first time I felt discomfort was with Tat. I usually sleep on my back and right side, so it wasn't until I consistently shared a bed with someone that I noticed it bothered me to sleep on my left. The pain wasn't too bad, I'd just have to flip over after a while. That's what she said.
The weirdest part about this is Lefty hasn't shrunk. After the surgery my boobs were a full B. The size of both breasts always fluctuates with my weight, so now I'm a D and have been for a while. I did think it was strange Lefty even grew at all, but I didn't give it too much thought. When the nurse looked at my mammogram yesterday she said, "Um you don't have an implant anymore." I freaked. Like good freaked. It's crazy!! My whole boob is natural. As my mom jokingly said, I'm a real girl now.
I'm still in a lot of physical pain, though. I just want to get this fucking thing out. The implant is on top of my breast and is annoying the shit out of me. It hurts to breathe, hurts to laugh, hurts to hurt. I don't think I want another implant. If Lefty does shrink to the point where I'm grossly lopsided again, I might just reduce Righty. I love being big breasted, but it ain't worth the upkeep. I think. I don't know. I'm going to the surgeon on Wednesday to find out my options.
Now that this is out there in the world I'll probably write more about it. I'm still pretty in shock about everything. In shock from the pain, the news, and going back to an upsetting time in my life. I'm emotionally exhausted.
I figure if you're reading this you're either a good friend or a complete stranger. Both are fine. I'm telling most people that I have a benign mass that needs to be removed. I don't want to get into all the stuff you just read. I will with you though, should you have any questions. Hell, I'll probably need to talk about it. It's been a long time coming. And it's okay if you want to stare at them. I'll even take my shirt off if you want.
Thanks for reading.
