I want to express my sincerest thanks to an old friend who did a very special thing for me tonight. If you have a minute, please check out King Cake Baby on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/kingcakebaby?ref=ts. He’s Lilliputian in size but not in fame and, obviously, heart.
Here’s his special message he sent out to me today. Made me feel like a rock star.
Thanks, KCB. I’ll be fine and eating king cake with you popping out of it naked again in no time. Only in New Orleans …
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Tagged "Old Dog New Tits", Facebook, KCB, king cake, King cake baby, Lilliputian, new orleans, ODNT
As promised, I’ve been thinking a lot about everything. And reviewing my thoughts from the last (almost) three months. I sat in a coffee shop for hours recently … sifting through every single one of my blog entries to date … searching for clues of where my real feelings lie. And I don’t even drink coffee! Chamomile tea and a banana managed to sustain my right to loiter at the bar on my laptop all that time.
Anyway, over the course of my walk through ODNTs past, I came up with the following little jewels …
I feel like I’m finally starting to get a little clarity here. And I’m finally starting to see the answer through the murky fog and haze. Maybe.
Oh, and I wanted to include a comment left by a regular ODNT reader and fellow blogger. Unlike some readers here, this individual and I have never met before so this opinion comes completely unbiased and fully anonymous.
What can I say about the decision of whether to go ahead with this? As you acknowledged, this is ultimately your choice to make. The fact that you’re hesitating is no surprise, because it’s a pretty big expense, and having your body modified isn’t a choice that should be taken lightly. I think if the side of your inner Sybil who thinks you should scrap the whole idea has been coming out often (or speaking loudly), maybe you should wait. But if you feel good about the whole idea and it only makes you nervous occasionally, you’ll probably have no regrets after going through with it.
– If you back out, you’ll probably be comfortable with the knowledge that you saved some money and avoided some minor but very real risks. But you might always look at yourself in the mirror and say, “I could have gotten some fabulous new ta-tas, and I chickened out! What was I thinking?”
– If you go through with it, I’m positive you’ll be happy with the way you look. You’ll get an instant and long-lasting boost to your self-image. You and your husband will have lots of fun playing with the new toys. But you might forever feel selfish, frivolous, and vain.
Gut instinct, without over-thinking it, which of these two situations seems more likely to eat at you?
If that doesn’t help, just ask yourself how likely you are to be stabbed in the chest, or have a Hezbollah rocket shot at you. Some extra padding out there could save your life…
Ugh. I’m high in the air … looking down … out of the open door of the plane. The houses look tiny and the people like ants. I sure hope this thing on my back is a parachute and not my daughter’s iCarly backpack. Here I go …
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Tagged "Old Dog New Tits", funk, iCarly, ODNT, polls, Sybil, vote
Ever since I published her ‘Nerd Girl’ creation (If Nerds could be Superheroes), my daughter has been hellbent on making the blog again. She came home from school today with this Halloween composition … written just for me and (apparently) all ODNT readers. I liked it … and found it not surprisingly offbeat. And so, without further ado, I present to you my girl’s second blog submission – The Mysterious Treat Trick.
Okay, let’s get back to our ODNT roots here. We’ve been through five preliminary consultations, two follow-up appointments and one scary emergency mammogram and ultrasound together. We’ve talked about botched boobs, troublemaking boobs, giNORmous boobs, mystery boobs, saggy boobs, perky boobs, slapping boobs, foreign boobs, holiday boobs, famous boobs, dancing boobs, old boobs, stabbed boobs, insured boobs and uniboobs.
But we’re not done yet.
We still have a big decision to make, don’t we? I will be calling for a vote down to one doctor in the next few days. (Don’t vote on this post though please. The poll will be up soon.)
Anyway, if you think I’ve already made my decision, think again. One minute I’m looking in the mirror, checking myself out and thinking …
“Okay. I’m definitely getting a lift. That’s the one thing every doctor … and even my mom … agreed on. And I should probably get a little inflation. Just a little. I don’t want to be too big. After all this research and soul searching, I really should do something for myself. Everyone knows that moms don’t stop and do things for themselves enough, right? Come on, Michele. Don’t be such a wuss. “
And then the next minute, I’m all …
“I can’t do this. This is crazy. There are risks. And there are starving people in Africa … and tuition to pay …. and house notes and electric bills and other debts. We’re not rich people. How can I spend this kind of cash on my boobs?!!?
Yes, yes, I know. I’ve exposed my inner Sybil. The pendulum of the human psyche. The fight (sometimes to the death) between the right brain and the left brain. Sybil presents herself from time to time in all of us when making big decisions. Most people call it vacillating, wavering, overanalyzing. I just call it a Sybil moment. (If you aren’t familiar with this classic movie, look it up. Sally Field. Good stuff. Long before her current stint on Brothers & Sisters.)
My point? I’m still not sure what to do. And yes … while ultimately it is my decision to make and I will have the final say … my family, my friends and YOU will also be playing a very important advisory role for me. You’ve basically come on every one of these appointments with me. You’ve heard everything these doctors have had to say. We’ve learned about full lifts, median lifts and mini-lifts together. And the incisions and scarring associated with all of them. We’ve learned about the pros and cons of saline versus silicone. And about texturized implant shells. And we’ve learned about ccs – and how they can SO make a difference. We learned about fat injections as a new augmentation alternative. We’ve learned about an implant’s effect on mammography. And so on … and so on …. and so on …
So, since we’re all experts now, I’m asking that you please take a minute to look back over the appointments. At a minimum, please review the Doctor 4 and Doctor 5 reports, first and second round if I may be so bold as to ask. Both of these doctors are excellent and I would be in good hands either way.
This is the moment of truth. Please read over whatever you need to help me decide … and then be on the look out for the next round of voting in a few days. I LOVE you people for riding shotgun with me throughout everything. 🙂
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged "Old Dog New Tits", augmentation, boobs, botched boobs, Brothers & Sisters, ccs, consultations, fat injections, full lifts, incisions, mammogram, mammography, median lifts, mini-lifts, ODNT, saline, Sally Field, scarring, silicone, Sybil, texturized implant shells, ultraosound
Across the globe, breast cancer is the most common form of cancer affecting women today. According to the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation, “it is estimated that more than 1.6 million new cases of breast cancer occurred among women worldwide in 2010.”
Generally speaking, the more developed countries tend to have higher rates of incidence, which has been attributed to lifestyle and reproductive factors as well as lower screening rates and incomplete reporting in the developing countries. In any event, I think it’s time we all became a little more multi-lingual today and learned to talk about boobs wherever we find ourselves. You never know when that skill may come in handy. So, without further ado, I bring you our second interactive ODNT game …
… and welcome you to play along. The rules here are very loose so have some fun with it, amigos!
I’ll go first again to show you how it’s done.
While the world over debates the safety and health ramifications of breast implants, there’s one woman in Moscow who is counting her blessings for ‘adding on’ five years ago. This 40-year-old woman was recently stabbed in the chest by her husband in the midst of an obviously heated argument. He was aiming for her heart … but what he hit was her boob. And the knife became lodged in one of her silicone breast implants, the apparently enormous gifts she received from the very same man years earlier.
The woman was, of course, rushed immediately to the hospital and is now doing just fine. She’s already replaced the implant and left her homicidal husband.
As I see it, she’s now fixed one big leaky boob and dumped an even bigger, more stabby one.
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Tagged "Old Dog New Tits", boob, breast implants, breast implants can save your life, Moscow, ODNT, silicone, stabbed
When I set out to name this blog, I bounced around a lot of different ideas with a lot of different people. Most of these ideas were too lame to remember, much less post, but I do recall clunkers like ‘Making Mountains out of Molehills’ and ‘Two Boobs are Better than None.’ Alright, calm down. I told you they sucked. They’re too obvious .. and limited. Too boob-centric, if you will. And I’m not all about the boob, you guys. I am an interesting, colorful and multi-layered human being.
So, one night while my husband and I were out having drinks (and some sinful culinary creation called Gouda Beignets), we played around with a lot of these different ideas … including the crappers above … and happened upon Old Dog, New Tits. We both busted out laughing … maybe it was the booze … and decided that was it. Even though it would have to mean my being cool with calling myself an ‘old dog.’ I decided to hear it in my head as its streetsmart cousin … ‘dawg’ … and ran with it.
So, I bought the domain and got to work.
And I remember telling my friends about the name and getting the same initial reaction from them. Laughter. (That’s good, right?) Except for one friend who seemed concerned with using the word ‘tits’ in my blog name. “Aren’t you afraid it might turn some people off?” she asked me. And I responded with “Well, my MOM likes it.” (She’s a pretty reliable hash mark on the prude-to-offensive yardstick. Right, mom?)
Of course, I will give my friend this credit. Having ‘tits’ in the title has prevented my inclusion in certain blog directories. But … I’ve learned that those directories are not so much the ones in which I want to be listed anyway. (Whatever, blog directories. I won’t bash you over it. Here. In writing. Where there’s proof.) Oh, and ‘tits’ has navigated many a colorful Googler to my website. It’s actually one of the primary words that leads ‘Googlers’ to me. (I so wish I could see the disappointment on their faces when arrive at ODNT.)
And, seriously, let’s take a look at the tiny little word ‘tit’ for a minute. As some of you may already know, it’s one of the original Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television, a groundbreaking comedy bit made famous by George Carlin. Remember? Well, if you don’t, I’m posting it here.
BUT WAIT! DON’T WATCH THE LINK WITH YOUR KIDS IN THE ROOM! OR ANYONE ELSE’S KIDS!! OR EVEN A GOAT KID!!!
George said the same thing that I’ve been saying all this time. ‘Tits’ soooooo should not be keeping the kind of company it’s keeping here. The other six are killer words that you’ll only see on premium cable. Or maybe a Tarantino film. (Is he still relevant enough to mention in a blog post?) My point is … “tits” is harmless word. It sounds like a skin condition a dog gets or, as my friend George said, even a snack food. New from Frito-Lay!
‘Pass the cheese tits, please.”
Tit. It’s a cute little word. A palindrome. And it’s only three letters. How bad can it be? Right? … RIGHT???
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. 🙂
Posted in Uncategorized
Tagged breast, doctor, fibercystic tissue, implants, Kim Kardashian, lumps, mammogram, OB/GYN, ODNT, People magazine, surgeon, technician, test results, ultrasound, ultrasound conductive gel, under the muscle
I am the boob girl.
I almost went with boob lady, but I like the ability to sing my version to the tune of ‘I am the Walrus.’ (For my pop culture-challenged friends, that’s an old Beatles song.)
Last night, I had a meeting at my kids’ school for the women’s half of the parents association. We’re a pretty tight-knit community. Everyone knows you … or at least everyone knows someone who knows you. And the fact that I was co-president of this organization last year with my dear friend, Ashley, pretty much prevents me from flying under the radar there at all anyway.
(Note: you’ll be meeting Ashley better next week as I’ve added her as an Appointment Buddy. And she’s up for the Wednesday appointment.)
Anyway, this was the first big meeting of the school year. And, more importantly, the first one I wasn’t running (I know, Ashley … CO-running!) in a while … which left me available to visit with other moms before and after the meeting a bit. The topic of conversation initiated with me over and over again? Boobs, of course.
Specifically MY boobs.
I was a little surprised it (they) kept coming up as this was the circle in which I had chosen to lay low the most … assuming some of these women would think I was nuts. I’m friends with so many of the parents there … and the teachers … and the principal, for Pete’s sake! I wasn’t sure I wanted to unleash everything so close to home.
Worlds colliding, you know?
The funny thing is, that although I hadn’t directly contacted most of these ladies about the blog, many of them had already seen it. And read it. And liked it.
I really do need to get over myself, don’t I?
Anyway, I spent the night jumping from circle to circle, talking about my boobs with the kind of enthusiasm that allows you to know the subject of my conversation from across the noisy room. (Hand gestures and repeat grabbings of your own boobs will always give you away, FYI.)
I even got the opportunity to see and feel another mom’s implants in the bathroom before the night was over. Seriously, it was her idea and she pulled me into the ladies room. I guess it seems only fair considering how many friends I’ve been flashing lately. And, by the way, Kelly … they were spectacular! (Yes, of course, I have her permission to use her name. Never mind the fact that I got it over drinks later that night!)
After the meeting ended … and I talked to no less than a dozen people about my boobs … we all went out for drinks and the discussions only deepened. Again, I found myself surprised by the women (and men, apparently) who had been tuning in and were regularly keeping abreast (how many times can I use that one really?) with ODNT. There were two women there I had never met before who have already taken the big plunge. And these ladies were more than happy to have the opportunity to discuss ‘all things boob’ with everyone and learn even more with me during my research process.
The bottom line is I think I’ve created a bit of a new identity for myself … as ODNT or perhaps just Old Dog, which I can live with. But, you know, it’s kind of nice having my own identity after all these years as my kids’ mom, the school’s president, my mother’s daughter or any of the other familial connections linked to me. (Wink.) And, hey, my boobs actually scored me lunch today at one of my favorite local burrito joints. (Thanks, Alyson, Robby and Izzo’s for a great meal!)
And these are still my ‘befores!’ Think … of the possibilities!
Just writing about the daily dumbassery of life. The good, the bad and the so-utterly-mundane-that-you'd-think-I-wouldn't-even-bother-to-write-about-it.
OldDogNewTits 