In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Well, I Never……
When I read this mornings prompt, I had an immediate response. The question is do I have the courage to publicize something I have for decades kept to myself. I have an urge to disclose my shameful experience and am easily embarrassed to think of the few people that know that me as the writer of this blog. I am not completely anonymous.
Well, damned the torpedoes, full speed ahead. After all, this is not who I am but a part of a past experience that in the end was a worthwhile lesson, firstly, on how I think and feel about the human body, and secondly, not to act to quickly and do the research. This second lesson took me years to acquiesce to and recently I had a slip and needed to relearn the value of saying… “I need to think about it”.
Back to the experience at hand. Allow me to set it up. I was 30 if I remember correctly and had my daughter and my son. On some personal level, I was attempting to reconstruct myself as a young woman. I had always been modest in the breast department, but after albeit a short breastfeeding sojourn with my babies, I was left with frighteningly deflated looking boobies. I imagine you have guessed where I am going with this. It was the 70’s and breast augmentation was surfacing as an acceptable viable alternative to breast considerations. I had heard of it, and immediately approached my husband.. Well he almost raced me into the surgery room, no questions asked.
Within just a couple of days of recovering at my mother’s house, I knew I had made a big mistake. As I lied there convalescing with tubes draining fluids from my body with these odd breasts sitting up in front of me, I felt an annihilation of the delicate bond I had with my material self. These feelings were kept private. Healing took place, and I dismissed any negative thoughts I had about my quick choice to alter my body and carried on with my tasks at hand. I had discovered that the sensitivity around my breasts was greatly reduced, and was sadden by this. The Doctor gave no warning that the cost of a more attractive bosom was the loss of sensitivity. I had not thought to ask the question. I have realized the we as a plastic surgery obsessed society have truly traded a look for all the joy that makes our bodies pleasurable, it’s extreme sensitivity to touch.
Within a year, I experienced a hardening on my left side, and my breast had become unmoveable and hard as a rock. Again I visited the Doctor and he explained to me that it was quite common and happens in a high percentage of surgeries. Hmm, why was I not briefed on any post surgery probabilities ? Nonetheless the only solution was to clasp the breast on each side and slam the palms together as hard as possible breaking the scar tissue that formed around the prosthetic causing the hardness. This was extremely painful and comparable to smashing your thumb with a hammer. Within five short weeks the hardness had returned; I was now afraid to come near or hug anyone.
Gratefully I was introduced to a Doctor who’s life’s work was correcting faulty plastic surgeries. I learned that the Doctor I had randomly selected from a phone book was the worst in the city and responsible for much trauma. I was scheduled for surgery and at last I would have these saline sacs removed from my precious body. Upon waking my Doctor approached me holding the prosthetics in his hands. He informed me that I was lucky that neither had burst as was also common, as what he held in his hands were actual silicon sacs and not saline prosthetics. I have since heard of horror stories from women that have had the experience of these breaking and the silicon traveling around the body causing large open sores to appear in random places. The silicon is impossible to retrieve.
In closing, I love my breasts as they are and through the miracle of time they have returned to being quite normal and handsome enough for me. The sensitivity has improved but is not to compare to what it once was. If you are like me.. advice of any sort is something we can live without. People will do what they do. But I have since told my story on a couple of occasions, each time to a stranger who had disclosed to me the desire to have breast surgery augmentation. I hope my lessons can benefit the young woman who thinks that a change in her breast size could give her LASTING pleasure. I say look within and change the way you perceive yourself.
The most precious experience that our bodies can provide us is the sweet sensation of being touched. When we loose that sensitivity to the severing of nerve endings and no longer feel a stroke or a caress, we have forfeited a great deal of our human experience. I wonder if it is just not ever mentioned. Do lips that have been botoxed still feel ? When the lights are dim and you feel the closeness with someone you love, how you look looses it’s relevance. There are young women being implanted with artificial prosthetics and I wonder how that might interfere with the organics of breast feeding should that time come.
I am grateful that I have moved to where I am now with my body. It is precious to me. One key in the grand piano of humanity and I would hope it to make a pure and glorious sound.
Think twice before you leap. Love yourself, give yourself a giant Hug, you are a treasure as is.