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My Boob Job Blog - a journey from AAA to C

The boob job - before and after[A real mom's story.]

"Those of you with big boobs will think us completely ridiculous, but only  members of the AAA club will be able to understand what it is like to not have boobs. I just can't wait to fully feel like a woman, with soft, full boobs. The way God intended for us to look and feel like. I don't know what happened to me, I've put it down to a rogue gene...

My darling mum was blessed with beautiful, full boobs.  My aunt was not. She was flat-chested. My cousin Hannah had beautiful full boobs. I was flat-chested. How is that possible? I have to add that my cousin Hannah also inherited smooth, slim thighs with not a bump in sight on her bottom. I did not. What is that about?

As a young girl, my two small little marbles slowly grew into small, perk breasts. And then they stopped. They just stopped growing. I accepted this and promptly made other plans, like stuffing shoulder pads in my bra when I went out (and sometimes had to rapidly remove when I got older...).

I would have liked bigger boobs, but the fact is they suited my body. I was slim, and had my dad’s athletic build. I liked my shape and thought I was very lucky to be able to eat as much as my older brothers and didn’t put on weight. The idea of EVER having a boob job just didn’t even feature. And then I had my son.
My boobs grew as my tummy did. I loved it. I felt womanly and so proud of my full bosoms and large round tummy. I felt like a beautiful woman, finally I had beautiful breasts! 

When my darling son was born I was over the moon when my son put his little mouth to my boob and he latched almost immediately! Oh my gosh, what an incredible feeling. I’ll conveniently gloss over how it took a fair amount of tugging and squeezing of my nipple on the nurses’ part to make this natural event occur, but the fact is I could breast feed!

After 6 months of successful breast feeding and a 4 month break for my boobs, I was pregnant again. One little baby girl later, and sure enough the (same bl**dy nurse) arrived at my beside to squeeze my poor nipples into the baby’s mouth. She latched. Maternal bliss!

I basked in my role of nurturer and mother.  I wandered around in ignorant bliss, wallowing in my new-found sexiness of full, round bosoms. I remember going to a dear friend house for a braai and wearing a bikini top to show off my divine, big, full boobs. With hindsight, it’s probably not the ‘done’ thing to flaunt breastfeeding boobs;  I don’t know, I guess it somehow goes against the law of nature – “thou shalt not flaunt something as a sex symbol that actually belongs to your innocent babe”.

Well, within weeks of my milk drying up, my boobs shrivelled up like a party balloon two weeks after the party. You know the ones that you find under the couch weeks after the party; soft, flat, empty, pathetic and sad looking. A shadow of their former glory. Yup, those were my boobs. They hung limp and sad looking. I’d have been DELIGHTED had they gone back to what they were before I had my babies. That’s the irony. Little did I know that they were actually great back then, small sure, but they had ‘something’ inside them and they had shape and they sat up.

It took me months of agonising to come to my decision to have a boob job. Call it a breast augmentation if you will, but the fact is, it’s a boob job. Did I EVER think I’d have a boob job? No! Never! And neither did I think my boobs would look like my darling grandma’s did when she was in her 70’s, but I was only 34?

I did all the necessary research regarding who to go to... Prepare yourselves ladies, for an onslaught of information. Eventually I found my man, had a nervous chat with his divine receptionist, booked my consult, and my surgery two days after that! I sms’d all and sundry telling them my news – anything for a bit a excitement, and laughed at the surprised responses I got.

Next to tackle was my darling husband who is against all things ‘false’. For those of you in the same situation as me with a husband that’s not keen, my advice is start talking about it softly and quietly early, gently pointing out how sh*t your boobs look. They’ll come around."

*Names have been changed to protect the innocent (and big-breasted).
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