Why I Had a Breast Reduction

At the meager age of 13, I towered over the majority of my friends. Flowing chestnut hair and an overdeveloped chest caused me to unknowingly look like a 17 year old, which garnered the unabridged, and frankly, unwanted attention of boys at my school.  My older sister used to tease me as we stood, comparing our bodies in the expanse of our bathroom mirror. While girls my age wished they had a bigger chest, I felt more like a porn star; a circus performance, stuffing myself into a bra that I could only imagine had formerly been a contraption of torture. 

After gravity, pregnancy, and a determined toddler dangled carelessly from my chest, I was left with two weighted bells which seemed to be in a race to meet my belly button. My waist remained small and proportional, but as I waited for my chest to shrink from my ever-drying milk supply, I realized this would not be the traditional postnatal, post-nursing experience. No matter the number on the scale, my boobs continued to fight against my spine, my neck, and any sense of self confidence that remained. 

Each morning, I would wake with a crumbling thump in my head. Maybe I’m dehydrated, I tried to tell myself. I chugged water like we weren’t in a drought, but alas, the pain persisted. A lightening bolt crept down my back, my legs, my butt cheek; the result of a top heaviness akin to “Barbie Becomes Mommy.” Who would have thought such a monument of femininity could be so utterly excruciating? 

Many trips to the mall ended in tears. Anything that fit my waist was laughably tight on my chest, and any outfit that fit my chest created a SpongeBob effect. Contrary to society’s desire for big boob’d ladies, a triple G is anything but perky and petite. 

New mothers know the struggle of self after giving birth. I ached physically and emotionally. When I looked down, I didn’t even recognize myself. A relentless need for my own physical acceptance had compounded; not of the societal standard, but of my own comfort. I knew, no matter the cost, I needed a change, and it was not going to happen with even my best effort at the gym or at home. 

I began researching everything about breast reduction surgery and recovery, never really believing I would be able to afford or even truly want something so drastic as plastic surgery.  I saw the countless before and after photos of women like me, and suddenly, I felt a sense of peace and comfort. I had made a promise to myself that I would be physically able to play with my son, to chase him, to play whatever game or sport he desired. All of my effort at physical health the previous 10 months came to this cornerstone: either I go under the knife, or I end up hunched over, crippled with pain for the rest of my life.

Once I decided I was having the surgery, I began to ask questions—that’s when a beautiful soul reached out to me. Her boss would do a consultation free of charge, and even take care of the hoops that my insurance required for the surgery. I bit my nails for five whole days waiting for the approval, waiting for an apologetic call. It finally came, but my pessimistic mind failed, and I was set for surgery! 

Today, I am still healing. The scars are beginning to heal and fade, and for the first time in my life, I can look down and see my belly, my legs, my feet. Upon entering clothing stores, I found shirts that not only fit, but were loose on my chest! I know physical appearance is not the most important aspect of life, but there is no replacement for self-care, self-love and a pain-free life.

Thank you to the staff at Feldmar Aesthetics, namely Rosemary Roman, for helping all of this happen. A special thank you to Dr. David Feldmar, who not only performed an exceptional surgery, but has provided exceptional care.

If you would like to know more about Feldmar Aesthetics or their breast reduction process, please contact their office at (310)820-2111. Please note that although my insurance covered the surgery, not all insurance covers a breast reduction.

*Note: I was not endorsed to promote this company or surgery. It is simply a recount of my personal experience and opinions. This post is not to be taken as medical advice nor replace the advice of a medical doctor.