Background Story

I can remember how fascinated I was with having a large chest since I was a small girl. I used to pray every night that I would have boobs. After all, that's what every little girl wants, right? I have yet to meet a young girl who isn't dying to wear a bra or have mountains coming from her chest. I didn't want anything overflowing, but I wanted something to make me happy. When I was in fourth grade, my mom first bought me a bra. I remember that Labor Day when she took me into her room and showed me the sports bra. It felt like I finally had to cover something up. Within two weeks from that, I had to start wearing training bras, and from then on, they grew.

I was averaging a cup size per year all throughout puberty. My list goes as follows: 4th grade - AA, 5th grade - A, 6th grade - B, 7th grade - C, 8th grade - D, 9th grade - DD, 10th-12th grades - DDD, freshman-junior years of college - G, senior year - H. By the time I was 14, I was tired of having a chest. A steady D, I remember crying in the dressing room at Dillard's when my mom had to buy me a reduction bra. I was tired of the girls in PE being fascinated with my growing chest. Boobs were no longer fun to me. I never struggled with wanting "a little more to fill me out." Instead, I wanted them off. High school didn't help, either. While we changed for PE, most of the girls were in their cute Victoria's Secret bras, barely filling out the B cups. Me? I was wearing a DD-DDD granny looking bra from Dillard's that cost more than anyone should pay for such little fabric.

It continued to go downhill from there. My posture crumbled, constantly weighed down by the bowling balls strapped to my chest. My mom constantly would say, "Sarah, if you would sit up, it would make you look 10 pounds lighter." The more I tried to sit up, the more it hurt. I lasted all of 30 seconds before slumping back. I felt like anytime I did anything, people were staring at my chest and not me. I had to grab guys' faces and tell them that I'm "up here" and not six inches below my chin. I felt like I was looked at more like a piece of meat more than anything. I appear confident and thick-skinned on the outside, but internally, I was different. I cried myself to sleep many nights, wanting a reduction. My mom told me if I lost weight, my chest would go down.

Here's another thing - I have hypothyroidism. In 8th grade, I worked out daily and gained 80 pounds. We didn't know what was wrong. By 9th grade, I was referred to an endocrinologist and was diagnosed with hypothyroidism. Although my weight steadied, the chest grew larger. I felt like all boys looked at was my chest, furthering my belief as to why I didn't have boyfriends in high school. When it came time to buy dresses for dances and proms (we could attend all four years), I struggled finding one my size. I had to go up a dress size or two just to have it fit. Frustrated in the fitting room, I found myself stressing and crying that designers just did not understand chesty girls. I always had a time finding a good strapless bra - especially one that offered support. When I was a cheerleader in 10th grade, the girls and I joked that my chest could support a girl in a stunt - it was true. My final year of high school, my parents said if I lost 25 pounds and kept it off 6 months, they'd schedule me a reduction. This seemed impossible for me, and in some ways, I consider it abuse. Knowing my struggles with confidence and physical pain and not having anything done was wrong in my book. Mark my words if my daughter has a large chest, I will see to it that she gets something done by the time she's going to college (if she wants). No one should have to live this long with such pain and agony over something that can be surgically removed.

When I went to college, I grew even more conscious of my rack. I found that unless it was a turtleneck, cleavage showed. Buying swimsuits was a pain, and I noticed my bosoms were starting to sag. At the age of 19 and early 20s, no woman should have the chest of a woman who nursed five kids, but alas, that was mine. I felt like I could never hug people closely or enjoy the exercise classes I went to, mainly because when I looked in the mirror at myself, all I saw were boobs and my face. Nothing else. I felt like they were punching bags for my knees, hindering me to go full-force in spin. While doing Zumba, I thought certain dance moves would give me a black eye. Forget running - that was for girls without a chest to weigh them down. I noticed the pain getting greater and headaches growing more frequent. I couldn't talk to guys without seeing them glance down at my chest mid-conversation. I felt like if they could somehow come off, they a guy would see me for me.

I graduated college this past May and had every intention of going into the real world. My parents told me that if I did opt for grad school, they would pay now. If I went later, they wouldn't. As my senior year came to a close, I decided in January to apply to grad school the same university where I earned my bachelor's. Once accepted, my mom came to a final conclusion for me to have a reduction: lose 10 pounds by graduation, and I could get the girls cut off. I'll note that while I have curves, I carry most of my weight in my chest. I tried running this past spring and got runner's knee from being top-heavy. I had to stop altogether and fear working out a lot. I wear a size 14 in clothes and have to buy blouses in an XL for my chest. I'm not huge, but I'm not little. I'm happy with my size, but I wouldn't mind losing a few pounds. I'm hoping this surgery does motivate me to hit the gym more and to tone up (once I get cleared).

When I came home for the summer, I immediately called the doctor's office to schedule a consultation. I felt an instant sense of relief when I was set to go in May 26. The next blog is the fill-in from the consultation. I will note that I'll be quite graphic and brutally honest in this blog, but I'm only doing it because honesty is what I'm looking for when I Google "breast reduction blogs."

After the surgery, I'll update here and there on how it's affecting me. My hope is that I'll touch the millions of women out there who struggle with the same thing I do. Those women who wake up in the middle of the night with back pain; those who have to lift their breasts one at a time to get comfortable when they roll over on their stomachs; those who can't go shopping for more than a few hours without having severe neck and back pain.