I had an eye opening experience, no more like an epiphany, this morning. Let me start from the beginning. Sharing this personal information is both cathartic and a bit embarrassing. Not because of shame, but because I pride myself on being a confident person and the decision I made many years ago, suggests something different. But hear my story first and then you can formulate your own opinion. But please ... keep it to yourself.
This morning I had a doctors appointment with a cosmetic surgeon. After much thought, mulling, agonizing and indecision, I've decided to remove my breast implants. Thirteen years ago, after two children and gravity taking it's full affect on the lucious ladies, I decided I wanted a lift. So I did my research and found the best breast surgeon in Las Vegas at the time. I went in with confidence. After all, I had made a well thought out plan ... until I saw the actual procedure in a video. They closed me up in an exam room and ripped away any ounce of courage I had talked myself into. The surgery was an undertaking I truly hadn't prepared myself for and when face with the slap of reality, I ran out of the office.
I went home, thought long and hard and determined to do something, went back for another appointment. I spoke with the surgeon about my goals and he suggested implants. Now, understand, I had no desire to be larger breasted, but it was much less involving and risky than the alternative. I was a comfortable C cup and expressed a small D would be okay. We made the agreement and I went under the knife ... voluntarily. When I awoke, to say I was surprised is a disservice to the word. I found these largely inflated two balloons jettisoning outward from my chest. I was later measured as a 32 DDD. I could have written triple D, but I think to get the full effect, you must see it that way.
For thirteen years I struggled, never really happy. And that brings us to today and my impending surgery. Once again taking my ta ta's to the blade. I had also been thinking lately, that the little lines around my mouth are looking, well, not too little. I've been reading and inquiring about filler injections and had decided that maybe Restyline might be a good fit for me. It's *subtle* and lasts about a year. Perfect! I spoke with friends and family, only one person agreed with me. Everyone else stared back at me in complete horror. Begging me not to inject anything in my face. But I am a strong woman and make my own decisions ... however misguided.
As I sat in the waiting room today, I observed several ladies come and go. After about the fourth or fifth lovely, I began to realize that I could tell which had their *lines* done, and which ones had not. They all had the same plumped up appearance. Some larger than others, I assumed they had fresher injections. But nonetheless, all the same. Then I began to notice the staff. All pretty women. But once again, I could pick them out. If you truly get an idea by a *light bulb* going off in your head, then mine was more like a chandelier. It was thirteen years ago all over again. I was sitting there and had learned nothing. Now I am not suggesting that no one should ever have cosmetic work. I would never judge anyone for those choices for themselves. I am merely applying this to me. I've always felt glamour and true beauty comes from within. But I can't lie. I color my hair, whiten my teeth and watch my weight. But, to start injecting, cutting or altering anything that requires anesthesia, doesn't really fit who I am. So, I've decided to get a better eye cream and moisturizer, smile more, laugh whenever possible and when I pass by a mirror do an internal ... yay! Because the truth is, we're all lovely, beautiful and confident women. The only thing we really need to judge ourselves on is, when seeing our reflection in the the mirror, did you really leave the house with those roots? *Wink*
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