Breast Reduction Surgery: Farewell to "The Girls"

If you are reading this after 7:30 a.m. on November 23, I am either under the knife or recuperating from breast reduction surgery. I thought, what better way to celebrate this day then to write a letter to “the girls.”

To “The Girls”, as we part ways-

I literally can’t believe this day has come. I’m almost in denial. For the last 23 years, I’ve known nothing but you.

I can’t remember what life was like before you. Seriously. Walking around with no bra. Sitting in a chair with my back straight, not needing to readjust myself every few minutes. Exercising!

It must’ve been nice.

We’ve been through it all together. I showed you off in low-cut shirts and bathing suits when you were a manageable size. I covered you up and wore minimizer bras when you got out of hand (sometimes out of TWO hands, like now).

You’ve been there for me at times when I needed some support. You know, holding my phone while walking the dog, catching food that would’ve otherwise ended up on my lap, and acting as a pillow for all the babies I’ve held.

They call me the baby whisperer because I could put any baby to sleep. (I wonder if I’ll lose that title now that you’re gone).

I’ve gotten free drinks because of you. I’ve gotten out of gym class because I had forgotten my sports bra because of you. And I’ve had the opportunity to experience motor boating by more than one girlfriend, all thanks to you.

But you’ve also caused me tremendous pain, almost as bad as heartache.

You’ve tried to kill me through suffocation whenever I forgot a beach chair and needed to lay on my back – or when I attempted to do sit ups.

You’ve made it difficult to breathe when running, or even walking up a hill. ‘

And the back pain has gotten so severe that I can’t get through a day without Icy Hot or a heating pad.

I struggled with parting ways with you. I was convinced that the male attention I always got was thanks to you. After my first consultation at the age of 20, I thought that losing you was a way of losing my identity. I’d lose my femininity and what makes me “Me.”

Today, I put my foot down and declare that enough is enough. Instead of reaching a level we were all comfortable with, you didn’t stop growing.

You made exercise next to impossible, which in turn has forbidden me from getting healthy. You made me uncomfortable in my skin and my clothing, which has completely ruined my confidence. And you made me feel like all a man was interested in me for was for you, which made me lose faith in the opposite sex.

You’ll still be there, but a much more manageable version of you. I’ll be able to buy a bra off the sale rack at a local store instead of special ordering them online for more than my cell phone bill costs monthly.

I’m going to exercise, maybe run a 5K, and rock a bathing suit with the same confidence I had in 6th grade when you showed up before everyone else’s.

Don’t think of this as me getting rid of you, but instead me trading you in for a better version so that I can be a better version of myself.

It’s not me. It’s you. And in order for me to be happy, you’ve gots to go.

Bye Felicia (aka “The Girls.”)

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