Where are all the bloggers in this town?

Posted on September 26, 2011 | 4 comments

Not unlike most days, my intended plans for today versus what actually happened resembled each other about as much as a vending machine and a spider monkey. And it’s Monday, right? That means everyone in my house is drag-ass tired from pushing ourselves all weekend and not saying no nearly enough to all of the activities and invitations that come our way. I guess there are worse problems, but still … I’m freakin’ tired.

We managed to get up on time, dress and have breakfast pretty quickly, never mind the fact that my kids have now decided they don’t like grits anymore. The balking ended when I pointed out that MY breakfast was the “yucky brown banana” and I’d be more than happy to organize a trade with anyone interested. Radio silence.

And then, there were the inevitable school lunch menu complaints from my daughter. Sorry, dear, it’s just a nasty fish sandwich kind of day. This is a crazy morning and I actually have to go to a classroom of my own … which means I can’t bring you to school in a t-shirt and pajama bottoms today. (Sidenote: Sunglasses and gum are great substitutions for make-up and toothbrushing at this hour.)

Anyway, with my kids finally on their way, I headed to the nearby community college for the first day of a two-session ‘Blogging for Beginners’ class I just signed up for last Friday. It seems like a good fit for me these days … and I figure MY gain here is YOUR gain, right? A friend of a friend of mine (Amanda, after today’s colorful chat, I’ll now be eliminating that first ‘A friend of’ part) signed up with me and we were meeting in the classroom.

And, dude, was I prepared! I brought not only my faxed registration form but also an old padfolio (remember those?) for notetaking, two reliable pens and even a jacket in case it got cold. (Don’t judge! This is what motherhood does to you.) I haven’t been on the receiving end in a classroom since 1997 so my geek tendencies were high.

On my drive over, I called the college from my cell to find out where I was supposed to park and decided also to go ahead and confirm my last minute registration. Which turned out to be a really good idea since the damned class was canceled! Not enough registrants. (Insert your favorite explevatory word here.)

I was really looking forward to upgrading my tech knowledge and feeding my inner nerd. She’s starving!

I called Amanda immediately who, of course, knew nothing of the cancellation of the class that was to begin merely ten minutes later. And she was just as bummed as I was. So, we did what all women do in the face of a crisis. We met at the nearest coffee shop to eat away our troubles and have our own informal ‘blogchat.’ (If that word catches on, I totally want the rights. Hang on … a quick Google search shows some techgeek already beat me to it. Wait … what about ‘techgeek?’ … searching … Damn it, also taken! Guess I’ll just stick with ‘explevatory’ for now.)

Amanda and I had a good visit. A productive one. She’s gearing up to launch her own blog, which I’ll spill about as soon as she’s ready. In the meantime, in the interest of ‘higher learning,’ I motored over to the nearest bookstore and picked up a copy of ‘Blogging for Dummies.’ This series of books has always been helpful to me … which really should be telling me something.

If I was smart enough to figure it out.

20120407-223706.jpg

 

4 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , , ,

Still on football … but boobs are mentioned here

Posted on September 25, 2011 | 1 comment

Saints  40   ……………………   Texans  33

I spent the afternoon at the Superdome today watching a pretty exciting game with my friend, Holly.  (Thanks again for bringing me.  I’m glad to see I broke my bad luck streak with you.)  Of course, the fun started before we even entered the stadium as we navigated ourselves through the throngs of Black-and-Gold-bedecked fans to get to our gate.  I’m so sorry I didn’t get a picture of the six-inch gold glittery stilettos that prevented one woman from walking with straightened knees.  And I am not exaggerating.

We were both pretty hot by the time we reached our entrance and … although I knew it would open the floodgates (almost literally) for me with bathroom trips … I was really glad I had chosen to make a drink at the tailgate stop we made on the way in.  Seriously, I think I went six times today … and that was with me trying to be good for the men in the aisle seats.  They’re going to really appreciate Holly’s one-pee-per-event husband in my stead at the next game.  (Maybe I should really be pursuing a bladder augmentation. Hey … I might be on to something.  Anyone?)

But back to outside the stadium.

When we finally got to our gate, we got threaded into different lines to get in. It only took a minute for the guys in front of us to point out that there were separate lines for men and women to enter.  I mindlessly complied with their instructions, assuming the segregation was due to the fact that women took longer because of purse checks.

Little did I know.

If you think the pat down at the airport is a big deal, you really need to go to an NFL football game this year.   Your constitutional rights are NOTwhat’s violated here.  And that’s why I needed to have a female employee.  This poor woman left no boob, armpit, stomach, back, butt, or inner thigh (yep, all the way up) untouched.  And remember, everyone was sweating from the heat.

There’s just not enough Purell in the world for me.

Of course, the upside is, unlike the airport where you have to submit to all of this crap without uttering a syllable, this experience allows you to make all the comments you want. I think these unfortunate individuals were either complained to or hit on (by “hilarious” fans) the entire day.

I sure hope they’re paid well.

20120407-223706.jpg

 

1 Comment

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , ,

A (Completely Logical) Segue from Boobs to Football?

Posted on September 24, 2011 | 1 comment

This week has aged me seven or eight years, so I think it’s time to take a day off from all of the boob talk and just enjoy the weekend. With fall creeping in, it’s all about football around here and, thanks to a good friend with an extra ticket, I’ll be at the Saints game getting my Who Dat on at the Dome tomorrow. (Thanks, Holly!)

So, in honor of the occasion, I’m reposting an old favorite – an article I wrote for New Orleans Magazine online almost five years ago when the Saints finished up their first season after Hurricane Katrina.  We didn’t think we could ever match that excitement again.  Little did we know what was waiting for us just three years later … 

Good luck, tomorrow, Saints.  I’m expecting a good game. 

 * * * * * * * * * *

A Converted Soul … or should I say Saint?  (January 2007)

All my life I’ve been one of those people at football parties who help to prepare the food and clean the kitchen. I keep an eye on the kids in the other room. I catch up with old friends who dare to dart to the bathroom during the commercials or take a risk by running over to grab a snack between plays. I’ve learned to have conversations with people who aren’t making eye contact with me but rather looking over my shoulder toward the television. And I know that there’s a really good chance that I may be suddenly interrupted by my listener’s screams of joy or frustration at whatever just happened during the big game.

Yes, that’s me. I’m that pain-in-the-butt person who attends the weekly football parties for the engaging company, the always delicious game day spread and the exciting atmosphere surrounding it all. I do my best to blend in by cheering when everyone cheers and booing when everyone boos. I’m neither a big fan nor a big student of football. I get that touchdowns are 6 points with a possible 7th point coming from a kick. I know about the three point field goal. And there are points from safeties and other things like that. I also know that for every one second of football time that it’ll really be about three seconds of actual time. That’s all I really need to know. It’s gotten me this far. I’m good.

Of course, I’ve taken plenty of ribbing from my family about it. I’ve always been more of a theater person. You know, one of those ‘Imagine-if-all-of-the-money-spent-on-just-one-football-game-could-be-put-into-a-theater-company’ kinds of people. Football people hate that and I’ve come to learn to just keep my mouth shut and “enjoy” the game.

But this year was different.

I’m a New Orleans native. I was born here, attended school here and, except for a brief stint traveling only as far away as LSU for college, have spent my full adult life here. I completed graduate school at UNO. And I have lived in the neighborhoods of Algiers, City Park, Lakeview and finally Old Metairie. I brought my husband here from Baton Rouge and we are now raising our kids here. I love New Orleans.

So, when the storm came through and took away my whole lifestyle and daily routine in Lakeview, I (like everyone else within a thousand mile radius) was completely devastated. Would we come back? And, if we did, what would we do? Where would we go? Would we rebuild our home or sell it? And while everyone in the city was floundering over these many questions as well as Guinness Book spools of red tape in which we all found ourselves entangled, in marched the Saints!

Remember them?

I’ve been watching these games for years with the rest of New Orleans. We’ve never been a strong team, but we’ve always been a proud team, one of the proudest in the league. That’s New Orleans for you. We know we’ve got our warts; some of them we even embrace.

But … again … this year was different.

I think on some level everybody knew back on Monday, September 25, 2006 that things were changing. U2 and Green Day were performing together in the Dome for Monday Night Football, for God’s sake. I remember watching the beginning of the game from my rented “home” on that historical night and crying. Me. Crying … about football!

But it wasn’t about football. I mean, for many people it probably was about football, but it was also this feeling of victory in overcoming a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. It made me feel as if everything was going to be okay. Astounding. All of that from a football team.

This past season, I found myself watching every game. I read parts of the Sports section to keep up to date about the team. I even listened to AM talk radio about the Saints when nobody else was in the car!!! I think my family would agree that that may well be the Seventh Sign of the Apocalypse.

I was so excited that every Sunday felt like Super Bowl Sunday. I dressed my kids in their new team clothing every week and found myself even selecting my clothing to support the team and wear the colors on game day.

I never thought it could happen but I got just as caught up in it all as anyone. It was an amazing ride and I for one will be tuning in next year. We may not have made it all the way this year, but that’s what 2008 is for. For me, “I believe” “the Saints Are Coming” and they will forever be “Marching In.”

Thank you, Saints, for a wonderfully uplifting and enlightening year!

20120407-223706.jpg

 

1 Comment

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , , ,

A Slap in the Boob with Reality

Posted on September 23, 2011 | 6 comments

It’s been a taxing week.  For me … and I’m sure for everyone.  For that reason, I thought we could all use a good laugh right about now.

Over the course of my three appointments so far, I’ve learned a lot about breast enhancement techniques that all seem to involve general anesthesia, some healing time and chunks of cash large enough to make me take pause.  Perhaps instead I should just be hopping a plane to Bangkok to seek out Khemmikka Na Songkhla, the sole proprietor of the first-ever boob-slapping spa (which, for those interested, apparently also services the face and butt).

I like Thai food.  Maybe I could make a weekend out of it.

Songkhla’s clients are drawn in to the spa (a term I’ll use loosely) to have their breasts slapped repeatedly by this woman with the expectation of increased shapeliness and size.  This “procedure” actually sheds a whole new light on the pain that women … and I’m betting a few men, too … around the world are willing to endure in the name of beauty.  Although, I guess we really crossed that line years ago when we started injecting poison (the rat variety, if memory serves) into our faces to stave off a few unsightly lines, didn’t we?

I’m sure her clients leave the spa with reddened faces, either at the repeated strikings of Madame Songkhla or perhaps due to fact that they’ve just been royally screwed.  Of course, we do apply reddening blushes to our faces.  And I remember Scarlett O’Hara pinching her pre-Maybelline era cheeks in pursuit of pink youthfulness.  So, maybe there’s something to it. But I really think all that slapping would just serve to piss me off. Still, I would imagine that over the years I have ticked off my fair share of people.  Some of them might even be reading … right now.

Tell you what.

If you have any interest in beating the crap out of my boobs and maybe saving me a few pennies, send me a message.  We can make a day of it … and even do lunch after. On me.

Click  below to see a subtitle-riddled video of this mind-boggling technique.

20120407-223706.jpg

6 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , , ,

The Mammogram Results

Posted on September 22, 2011 | 5 comments

“NORMAL, NORMAL, NORMAL!!!  I’ll bring you a hard copy of the report so you have it for your surgeon when you make your choice.”

This was the text I received today from my friend and, more importantly, my OB/GYN regarding the test results sent to her this morning.

I can’t hide my smile but I’m not going to lie. The first thing I did was cry. I had decided that everything was fine, would be fine, would always be fine … and I believed it. Still, there was this crappy little nagging feeling in the back of my mind that was nervous as hell.

I knew my mom was nervous as the subject came up a lot. She’s had a few of her own scares so she was a good resource to have around and also, you know, my mom. I knew my husband was scared as he’d become a prolific texter … warning me not to overgoogle anything … and then yet somehow quoting statistics and percentages that he could only have discovered through his own excessive online research.

But let’s go back in time a little. When I first heard the news on Tuesday, I knew that my aggressive nature had to kick in and I needed to nip this concern in the bud as soon as possible. Which is why I texted my OB/GYN as I was leaving the doctor’s office. Poor thing does have a life of her own and was probably trying to deliver someone else’s baby as I called both her office phone and her cell phone. And then I texted her.

I managed to reach her quickly and we discussed two places where I could have the tests done. The first place was very highly regarded and would be able to give me my results instantly. Instantly after the first available appointment on September 29, eight days away. I would have no hair or fingernails by then.

My doctor knew that … which is why she called the second place, a reputable one located closer to home for me and already in possession of the results of my last mammogram. Comparing these test results is one of the best ways the technicians can detect changes and, sometimes, problems in their patients. They could see me late the very next day. That was yesterday.

I’m sure you can guess which option we chose.

So, I left my house for my mammogram at the same time I’d normally be picking up my kids. My doctor (remember also a neighbor and good friend) even offered to get my children for me and have them start their homework alongside hers. Sooo sweet, but my husband was able to make himself available to me and the kids for the afternoon. Which I really appreciate.

I walked into the imaging center and signed in. Then, I found a decent magazine. Then, I was called up to go through all of the insurance and registration rigmorale. Then, back to my People magazine. (Did you know that Kim Kardashian wore three different gowns on her wedding day?) Then, they called my name.

As instructed, I went to the back area, women only, and changed into my stylish pink paper vest, which I nearly ripped in half exiting the ‘dressing booth.’ I made a nervous joke about it to the lady sitting in the same small waiting area as me. She just stared at me with a blank look. I thought a nasty thing or two about her in my head … then felt like a jerk when a translator finally came over and gave her the same instructions I received. In Spanish. Well, at least she didn’t hear what I said in my head. Which was in English anyway.

Armed with my now crappy Karma, I was escorted down the hall, first into the room where the mammograms are done. The technician there was very nice and patient with my nervous shell of a self. She maneuvered and manipulated my body to take the images she needed. This was my third mammogram. I had my first at age 35 and my second less than a year ago.  And, for whatever reason, this one hurt the worst.  Some of my friends hypothesized that they need to be that much more thorough when a problem is suspected.  Who knows?

While there … and thinking so much about breasts and lumps and implants lately, I asked the technician her thoughts on the impact that implants can have on the accuracy and efficacy of a mammogram.  And then I explained how my lump had been detected and why I wanted to know.  She said that, while there are arguments stating that under-the-muscle placement does decrease the odds of an implant causing a visual obstruction in a mammogram, there are still no guarantees that a problem couldn’t form behind that implant and thereby be invisible to the technicians.  Cancer cells, tumors and other problems can occur anywhere in the breast tissue so no placement is one hundred percent foolproof.  Then, we finished up the procedure and our informal teaching session and I was returned to the internal, ladies-only waiting area … until I was called again for my ultrasound.

Apparently (and this is not hypothecized), when there is a suspected problem, an ultrasound is also ordered to accompany the mammogram to rule out any issues. I haven’t had an ultrasound in years.  Do you know they actually warm up the ultrasound conductive gel these days? It was a welcome change from the frozen system-shock of years ago.

The ultrasound technician was just as lovely and soft-spoken a person as the mammogram tech.  The lighting was dimmed, decor nice and new age music was on.  I honestly felt a little like I was going to a spa for a massage.  And then, of course, I remembered that I wasn’t.  Still, I lay on the table and tried to relax completely, appreciative that there was no pain or discomfort associated with this test.  The tech commented on the fibercystic tissue in my breast, inherited from my mother.  Then, she moved the wand around over my left breast in search of any problems.  I tried to read her face for any signs of concern.  Just a poker face with a positive demeanor.  I didn’t really know what to make of any of it. She took a few pictures and said she wanted to run them by another tech elsewhere in the facility so she left me in the room, alone with my stupid thoughts, for a few minutes.

I lay there on the table while she was gone and thought about everything I’d learned during the last day as well as during the last month (ODNT is one month old today) … and thought about all the amazing people I’d heard from in the last 24 hours.  I had literally gotten inspirational messages from friends from grade school, high school and college, friends from former jobs, parents of my children’s friends, new friends and even people I’ve never even met. Incredible. I felt completely and suddenly very moved ….and then a little panicked.

I hadn’t really thought this plan through.  I had brought a buddy with me to every consultation appointment so far which, with one small exception, provided only general information to me and never any kinds of bad news.  And yet this time, partly due to the last minute nature of everything, I’d chosen to come alone.  What if she came back into the room with bad news?  How was I going to drive myself home? My imagination ran a little wild for a few minutes until she came back into the room.

No bad news. No real news other than that there was no bad news.  She couldn’t comment too specifically on anything and said they’d send everything over to my doctor who would then be contacting me. And, unfortunately, it was past closing time now.

Still, I left that office feeling pretty good.  For whatever reason, I knew this wasn’t going to be an issue. I have no idea why and I won’t deny that I was still a little nervous up until the point when my personal doctor contacted me with the good news today. Maybe it was all the prayers, good vibes, rain dances and other positive energy the universe sent my way yesterday.

Thanks, everyone. I feel loved. 🙂

20120407-223706.jpg

5 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Third Consultation – with a third (and entirely new) option

Posted on September 21, 2011 | 3 comments

Remind me never to schedule my breast consultations two days in a row again.

(I wonder if anyone’s ever uttered those fourteen words in that order before.)

It’s really too much breast manipulation, medical jargon and complicated reporting for me (and my shrinking brain) to tolerate in such a short time frame. So, I want to write everything down as quickly as I can before it disappears into a black hole somewhere in my mind after I sort through the junk mail, curse out a telemarketer or something.

Today started off just fine. A nice change from the last two days. After I got everyone out the door and threw myself together in yet another two-piece ensemble (never realized how many dresses I had until they were off limits), Ashley was already outside in the car waiting for me. Again, I would be prompt today since I was not the one driving. We dropped her youngest off at his little school and headed out to meet doctor number three.

We found the office quickly and got to work on my third set of paperwork. I’m always amused at the subtle differences in the forms from office to office. These forms asked me if I was on Facebook.(He better not be planning to tag any damned pictures of me.) I said yes and assumed that maybe I would just be recruited for a fan page of his work somewhere. But who knows?

The waiting room was a nice one, very contemporary in design. And there were abstract paintings here and there of the female form. Seems appropriate, yes? The plasma wall-mount TV was there purely for the purpose of running a tape loop of their best breast augmentation products. My dentist does the same thing. Well, his tape loop emphasizes teeth, of course.

Ashley and I passed the time by flipping through his before and after book. Impressive, as most have been. It didn’t hurt that he seemed to have a lot of particularly gross patients with which to work. (They’re all headless, so I can say whatever I want here!) There was a lot of particularly saggy skin not to mention a whole array of nipple piercings and tattoos (some with their own piercings worked into the design) to help us arrive at our clinical assessment of “gross.”

It wasn’t long before the nurse came out and called my name. She escorted us into the first examination room and seemed surprised that I had a buddy with me. She said she often serves in that role. Do other women usually go by themselves??? (Thanks, Ashley, for coming today.) I took off my shirt and threw on the robe without really even thinking about it, getting infinitely more comfortable with my toplessness lately. (Yeah, that’s probably not a good thing.)

The doctor came in pretty quickly and asked a few questions. I think I had the robe off within two minutes of his arrival. I couldn’t help but notice that his examination included not only my breasts but also my stomach. Immediately, he was able to offer his recommendations to me in a choice of two options:

(A) I could get a lift (the same full lift described at the first doctor appointment) in one surgery and then have implants inserted in a second surgery. Like my first doctor, he strongly urged that these two procedures be performed separately … but for a different reason than the first doctor. He said that, during the combination surgery that includes both procedures, 90% of the blood flow is cut off from the nipple and therefore there is a chance that (look away to the faint of heart) the nipple could die. So, two procedures it is, then. Moving right along …

Or

(B) I could get the same lift and use a grafting technique that injects fat from another area of the body into the breasts to increase their overall mass. He said not everyone is eligible for this procedure and again asked to see my stomach. (Now I get it!) Oh, and yes, I have enough spare fat to move it upstairs. Yay?

I kind of like this new B option.

The upsides? My stomach would be a little smaller and apparently “contoured” following the surgery. Bonus! And there would be no foreign objects in my body.

The downside? It costs more than the lift/implants combo as it involves more actual surgery. The incisions for what I’m going to call the FRP (Fat Relocation Program) are very small and hidden in the bikini area. After time, they and the anchor incision are expected to be barely visible.

And Ashley did point out one significant fact to my now-swimming brain. Yes, option B (the lift/FRP combo) would cost more than option A (the lift/implants combo) … but … there would be no maintenance. With the lift/FRP combo, I would never have to worry about replacements, leaks, explosions or any other ‘natural’ disasters that could ever befall an implant. So there would be no further (unknown) costs associated with this pay-more-now-but-no-more-later option. Definitely food for thought.

Concerning the implants, he said he uses both saline and silicone, the latter of which costs about $1000 more. He said, in his opinion, they are both equally safe and durable but that his patients are typically more satisfied with the authentic feel of silicone. In either situation, problems can occur and replacements are generally required after ten or more years. He added that, with his implant patients, he likes to see them annually to check in on everything. Concerning mammograms, he said there are two schools of thought. Some say the implants obscure a full view of the breast tissue and therefore can be very detrimental in detecting a problem. Others argue that the implant actually pushes up on the overall breast thereby propping it up in its entirety and making it easier to get a full view of everything. So, the score there is still 0-0.

But, despite providing the implant information to me, it really seemed like he was favoring the fat injection method. He made a pretty strong case to Ashley and me about the whole thing. And we saw some ridiculously impressive before and after pictures of mastectomy patients for whom he literally created entire breasts (and sometimes nipples) for these women from their abdominal tissue. They looked incredible. Lovely breasts and a flat stomach was the consistent end result. I can’t think of a category of women who deserve it more.

I have so much to think about. And still a mammogram to attend. What a day …

20120407-223706.jpg

 

3 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Second Consultation – a polar opposite experience & some other unwelcome news

Posted on September 20, 2011 | 9 comments

I woke up this morning to my alarm slapping me in the face and telling me to get out of bed. My daughter had choir practice and needed to be at school extra early today. Never mind the fact that the rain and my husband, hit hard with a headache again, kept waking me throughout the night. It was time to get up, throw everyone together and out the door so my day could begin.

Yesterday morning couldn’t have been smoother but this morning was a little … bumpy. (Sooo not the ‘explevatory’ word I want to use here.) Nobody was in an especially good mood, with my daughter being the real star of that dark and dramatic show. So, once they were all off and on their way, I was left to get myself, now really not in the best of moods, ready for appointment number two. Remember to wear a two-piece ensemble again, Michele. (If I ever forget and wear a damned dress, I will have to stand there completely naked for the examination. Topless is demeaning enough.)

Fortunately for me, my friend, Vanessa, was my appointment buddy for today. And, even more fortunately, she offered to drive … enabling us to get there on time today … unlike last week when I was in charge of the driving. I Googled the address from the car and we got there without incident. All improvements from last week.

After finishing the elephantine amount of paperwork a second time, Vanessa and I were left to peruse the waiting room and all that it had to offer. The TV in the corner blared ‘The View’ for anyone interested in hearing about Danny DeVito’s latest exploits. The requisite glass cabinet of upscale Obaji skin products was on display on the wall near the exit. There was an additional glass case featuring all of the doctor’s Mardi Gras memorabilia. Clearly, he had been this organization’s king at some point in the past. And his membership was probably paid for by the many sets of beautiful new breasts that may have, ironically, been flashed at his very float for that parade.

Vanessa and I flipped through his ‘Breast Book’ – filled with page after page of impressive before and after shots. True, there were some women who either had no business being befores or were fairly disappointing afters … but most had made significant improvements in their areas of interest. There was even a before and after picture of a man who had reduction surgery. And, yes, we both thought he had made the right decision. All of the pictures were headless, including his, except for one. One beautiful blonde woman with a smile as wide as Texas wanted to be sure she got credit for her efforts. And did she ever look happy!

We were just finishing up the book when the nurse called my name and we went to the examination room. She handed me a gown and told me to put it on facing forward. Oh, and I want to mention that this room had some nude Venus de Milo-y statuettes here and there as well as a plastic resin cross-section of a boob.

Isn’t this exactly what I was looking for last time???

20110920-032724.jpg

And, as I was undressing and putting on my gown, Vanessa took her top off … just for me to see a comparison. She promised before, remember? First of all, I want to compliment my friend (who I will point out is six years younger than me!) and say she has great boobs. Everything looked to be very much in the right place to me. Did I have that six years ago? Of course, I didn’t get to look at them long because, about two minutes after she unhooked her bra and pulled down her strapless spandex dress, the doctor walked in without warning … forcing her to throw her sweater around her chest and sit there throughout the entire appointment with her bra in her hand and her dress at her waist. Our little secret.

The doctor wasted no time with me. I kind of expected a man to be different. He got right down to the examination and was fairly physical with my breasts. He immediately said that the first thing he would recommend was a Bilateral Supra Areolar Mastopexy, which is sort of like a mini-lift. It wouldn’t lift as much as the full lift suggested at my first doctor visit but it also wouldn’t leave the anchor scar (line from the nipple to the breast base with a perpendicular c-shaped scar under the breast). The only incision needed would be made around the nipple and the implant could actually be inserted through that opening. Unlike the last doctor, he said the two surgeries could be done at the same time and that, since the only incisions made would be around the nipple (rather than the full lift’s anchor incision), scarring would not be an issue. And he seemed very confident with his answers.

When I asked about implants, he said he uses both kinds but much prefers silicone over saline. (I know. Again, different, right?) He said the silicone implants feel much more real and less invasive to the patient.

When I asked about the recovery period after the surgery, he said there would be some pain but that I could exercise after two weeks. (Woohoo!) He said the breasts are taped down a few weeks during the healing process anyway. (Sounds awesome.)

When he asked me how big I wanted to go, I looked at Vanessa and we came up with the same conservative “Not too big” (me) and “Small C?” (Vanessa). He seemed surprised with our answers and said that you want to go big C or small D to really get your money’s worth and have others notice the difference. I think he mentioned something about my husband at this point. (I really wasn’t wild about this conversation.) And then he asked to take my headless picture for my file. (Please let me know if my pictures hit the internet so I know when to file for free boobs!) Perfectly nice man. Seemed to really know his stuff. Just sort of felt a little like a number. Two lifted boobs, D, silicone, check.

Of course, he did leave us to play with his sample silicone implants – the 330cc, the 420cc and the whopping 450cc – which would translate to me being a full D. With my small frame and my just under 5’4” ‘stature,’ I looked like I was about to topple over. I might just need to take it down a notch.

They say everything happens for a reason. And I mentioned earlier in this post that he was pretty physical with the examination. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, of course. But without that literal manhandling, he would never have found the lump he found today in my left breast. Yes, lump. Which was also what I got in my throat when he told me. Remember that scene in Sex and the City with Samantha? Damn.

(I love you, Vanessa, and am so glad you were there with me today.)

So now, in the middle of this whole thing, I need to go get a mammogram to determine what the hell he found today. I would have had to do it for any of these surgeries anyway, but now I’m just going with a little more urgency … and anxiety. And I have another consultation appointment tomorrow. Sigh.

20120407-223706.jpg


9 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Getting by with a little help from my friends

Posted on September 18, 2011 | Leave a comment

 As promised, here is the original appeal I made to my girlfriends for help with the project … and their wonderfully supportive responses.

Q:

 Hi, ladies.

If you’re receiving this email, it’s because I consider you a close friend and wanted to include you in a project I’m getting ready to take on.  Before I go any further, please look above at the ‘send to’ line.  You have all been blind copied on this message for your own benefit. Why?  Because it’s about boob jobs … and I consider you all experts on the subject but know that most, if not all, of you will not want to be outed.  I totally respect that.  Personally, I’m planning to take a different route.

 As a 42-year-old mother of two who basically exercises and eats right every day, I’m tired of looking at the deflated version of what I used to have up there.  Some of you have even had the honor of seeing them in person.  Those of who have know where I’m coming from.

So … I’m now looking into the possibility of an upgrade … but that’s not all. In the interest of keeping my promise to myself to return to writing when my school job ended, I’ve decided to go public … very public… about this whole project.  Blog-style.  (I still can’t admit I’m planning to write a blog without feeling a little dorky. When, oh when, will I get over that?)

Those of you who have seen the movie ‘Julie & Julia’ will know just what I mean.  The difference here is that, instead of writing a blog about cooking 500+ French recipes created by Julia Child inside of a year, I will be documenting the full process of what women go through when pursuing a boob job, first-hand. Every detail of the project will be included in the journal …. from arriving at the decision and telling my family … to interviewing doctors and maybe buying some new bras. And everything in between.

And I want you all to be a part of the whole process.  I will fully respect your anonymity and give you another name (of your choosing) and would love to be able to tap your brains and use your insight for me personally as well as in the blog with your permission.

 What do you say?  Care to be my personal consultants?  Any thoughts to share with me already? I can’t wait to hear from you all.  Love you guys.

 Michele

A:

I’d love to do it, and I’m fine with using my real name.  I’ve been pretty open about my ‘enhancements.’ I hope you enjoy yours as much as I’ve enjoyed mine. – Anne

What a cool idea! I’ve always suspected you had a writer’s soul. You are probably like me, in that you analyze, soul-search, etc. before you make this kind of decision, but you ultimately decided to do it for yourself — not because of external pressure. I think there are a lot of women who have grappled with the same thing, and would appreciate some candid blogging on the subject. You can feel free to pick my brain! – Cindy

I love mine … thrilled that I did it! Where are you in your decision-making process? You can see and/or feel mine (after a few glasses of wine … haha!) if you’d like! I did that with a friend to see what I thought before I saw her doctor. – Elizabeth

Ha!!! I absolutely LOVE this. I would love to be a part of your boob journey. My first piece of advice is to think long and hard about what size you would like. Everyone, including the docs, will tell you that you will wish you had gone bigger. I totally disagree!!! I actually wish I would have gone smaller. Big boobs can give the illusion of extra weight. Put a lot of thought into your size. Good luck.  I’m here for you whenever you need me. – Hannah

I’m definitely on board and you can use my real name.  I’m very comfortable with my decision, so ask away.  I’d happy to answer anything that you or anything else wants to know. – Kelly

(A friend) suggested I do a boob blog last year.  Unfortunately, I am not a skilled writer.  Glad to see that you are doing it.  And, yes, I am your best source for information. – Mary

Awesome!!! I am 3 years post boob job and have zero regrets. I’ll be happy to have you pick my brain. I clearly remember deciding between 3 doctors and picked the one who wanted to be smallest. The buying new bras was funny because in the beginning I bought bras that minimized my look and now I buy push-up bras with padding. Haha! Look forward to talking to you. – Megan

You can officially count me in to be a part of The Expert Panel, The Dream Team, Babes with Boobs, Not So Itsy Bitsy, Lifted with Love, The Boobilicious Society, etc.  You can use my real name. I don’t mind talking about my journey and how it relates to your boob case. And, if anyone learns a little more about breast cancer awareness from my comments, then that’s a bonus. – Melissa

Nothing to hide!!! Real name is fine by me.  The “girls” have been up front all these years, so why not me? You will love the new additions!  Any questions I might be able to answer, just ask. – Paige

I have lived through the roller coaster of emotions and know the feeling of excitement when the ride finally stops and you take a deep breath, give sneaky grin and say– God, I am glad I did it!! I am here to support you and the girls until they are able to support themselves. And, oh, what a wonderful day to know they can be out there on their own, not drooping over a wire that I never completely understood. – Red

Of course! And I got a mini-lift at the same time – look into it. I don’t care who knows.  My name is fine. Good luck, Michele.  I love your idea.  You will be thrilled and will probably wonder why you didn’t do it sooner. – Vineen

 20120407-223706.jpg

Leave a comment

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , , , , ,

Introducing the Boob Expert Panel

Posted on September 17, 2011 | 2 comments

Where would I be without the constant …  sometimes level-headed, sometimes leap-before-you-look … advice of my friends?  (Am I supposed to be saying besties or BFFs here?  Wait, no. I’m a grown-up.)

I am blessed with more friends than I know what to do with.  So many that I am usually left feeling like a jerk when I forget somebody’s birthday or fail to meet their beautiful twin boys, now approaching a year old,  who live right here in town with me.  (Yeah, one of the hazards of my friendship these days is that you’re likely to find yourself referenced in this blog at some point.)

And, if you are one of the many wonderful people out there who I have called friend over the course of my life, you know something about me that has never changed.  I am an advice seeker.  Always.  On every subject.  I think some of my pals find it charming and some highly annoying.  Seriously, these poor souls know what I’m talking about.  I can’t buy a pair of shoes without texting the different selections to a friend or two first.  Eating out? Always an adventure with my friends apologizing to the server for my inability to decide on a menu item. I think I recently polled numerous people about choosing a new salad dressing. It’s what I do.  Like it or not.   I want second opinions.  And thirds.  And so on.

For this reason, I’ve elected to assemble my own ODNT Expert Panel (more comical names encouraged for submission … Team Boob?  I don’t know. I’m tired today), consisting of girlfriends of mine who have actually had boob jobs. These girls are all a really important part of my life and will now serve as my consultants for all the big questions that arise over the course of this project.  They will become my panel of authorities who will help guide me and anyone else reading here.  So, without further ado, please allow me to introduce you to Anne, Cindy, Elizabeth, Hannah, Kelly, Mary, Megan, Melissa, Paige, Red and Vineen.  No, not all of my girlfriends elected to use their real names.  Some yes, some no.  Remember, I’m the only attention-hogging grandstander here. (FYI, I will be posting the appeal I made to this incredible group of women and their responses in the near future.)

Oh, yeah. And remember that we are certainly not limited to the above eleven.  If you want to join the panel … either using a pseudonym or your real name … contact me and let me know.  Blog commenting, private messaging, voice mail, email, text, snail mail, carrier pigeon, morse code, skywriting, singing telegrams, strip-o-grams, mental telepathy, message in a bottle, two cans and string, throwing a rock through my window … all of these methods would be fine.  Though I think the last one would tick off my husband.  So “don’t” do it!

Thanks to my girlfriends who have already signed on.  And here’s welcoming any more who want to jump in.  I promise lots of laughs along the way.  Even if they’re all at my expense!

20120407-223706.jpg

2 Comments

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , , , ,

Jogging Bras and Rabid Dogs

Posted on September 16, 2011 | 1 comment

I woke up this morning to cooler temps in the high 60s, a good ten degrees lower than it was this time yesterday.  And, unlike the last few months spent living too close to the sun,  I felt inspired to take my run outside today.  My outdoor runs yield a much greater workout than the indoor ones taken on my treadmill.  Seriously, inside there are TVs involved, cellphones, sometimes even a book (only during the wind down part) but still …

Another perk of indoor exercise is that I can run in much more slovenly attire.  T-shirt (optional), standard bra and old gym shorts totally pull the indoor “look” together.  Outside exercise requires a little more attention to detail.  Not only does the world have the privilege of seeing you in all your disgusting and sweaty glory but, since the workout itself is always so much more intense, a jogging bra must come into play here. Mine’s black and it works beautifully.

Of course today, having not put it on in so long, I couldn’t help but notice the difference between what this bra does for me versus my ‘miraculous’ one.  I really need to write Victoria’s Secret a letter. Maybe they’ll ask ME to be in their next televised fashion show. (Oh, close your mouths. I am not that delusional.)

So, now fully garbed in my outside look, I grabbed my phone and set out for my run … looking a heck of a lot like a twelve-year-old boy.  Clearly, I either need to think long and hard about this decision … or perhaps just lobby Victoria’s Secret to manufacture an enhanced running bra.  Maybe it could have an iPhone charger built into the extra padding.

Although, while I was running today … fighting off the beagle attack I encounter nearly every time (I am SO going to make jerky out of that dog one day) … the thought occurred to me that any change I take on will get me out of heavy lifting and exercising for, like, a month or so.  I better double check those numbers.  And maybe the restrictions as well.

Think my family would understand if I was “incapable” of doing laundry, cleaning cat boxes, changing the channels on the remote, brushing my own hair, sitting upright, etc.  Hmmm, I may be on to something …

20120407-223706.jpg

1 Comment

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged , ,