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???

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.