Consultation

I remember May 26 like yesterday. My mom came home from work around lunch, and we took my car an hour away to the doctor's office. We plugged the address in the GPS and hit the road. I was scared, praying that this would go through. What if the doctor says I'm just fine? What if I'm being overly dramatic and should be worried about the starving kids in Africa rather than my chest? What if the insurance company doesn't approve? What if he's disgusted by how they look and refuses to operate? Such thoughts flooded my mind as we pulled up in the parking lot. My mom prayed on the way that things would go God's way with this, and if I didn't need the surgery, that we would know. As I sat in the waiting room, I noticed the amount of busty women in there. Good, they have the same struggles as me, I thought, as my name was called.
The nurse had me undress from the waist up and wear a super comfy robe. My mom came in the room, as I filled out a questionnaire. Such questions included bra size, an inquiry about weight loss and if you suffer from pains, headaches and rashes. My eyes watered up as I answered the questions, feeling like there were others out there who can relate. As the doctor walked in, I felt as if he had followed me around all throughout my teen years, as he rambled, "Let me guess, you hate going shopping and out for long periods of time because you have severe back pain. Your neck hurts at the end of the day, and your shoulders slump. Your parents have tried to correct your posture, but it's no use. You lose weight, and your breasts still sag. All of your friends can buy the cute, cheap bras, and you have to special order them. You feel as if no one can relate to you, and all men do is stare at your chest. You're ready to have clothes that fit. At the end of the day, you long to take your bra off and dread when people come to the door, because you have to put it back on. Swimsuits are a nightmare. You hate hugging people. You feel as if no one understands you, and you hate running. No, I haven't been following you around, but these are the stories I hear on a daily basis."
I nearly cried as I looked up at him and shook my head. Finally, someone heard my cry. I no longer felt alone, but instead, I had a surge of hope go through. I opened up about my past, how I cried myself to sleep some nights and felt like when I crossed my arms not wearing a bra, it was obvious. The surgeon took a look at my breasts and remarked how they droop like a woman in her 60s would. Wow, I thought, this definitely needs to happen. We scheduled the appointment for Aug. 1, took pictures for insurance and pulled documentation from my gynecologist visits, stating that I informed my doctor of constant back pain and headaches from oversized breasts. I told him I want to be a full C, not a D, and that I want them lifted and looking good. He assured all could happen and said he would see me at my consultation, which is scheduled for July 24.