I'm On The Way

I'd like to say I was up like a shot on this day for my 10am appointment but, no, I wasn't.  What's wrong with me?!  This should be the most exciting day in a long, long time and there I was pressing snooze over and over again!  Finally, with the panic of realising I might be late, I sprung out of bed and ran around like a headless chicken!!

One of my dilemmas was what to wear.  Sounds odd, I know, but it had to be something I could get on and off easily, including a bra that I had no need to fight with.  Because of my size and being a runner, I normally wear sports bras.  In England, this was fine.  I could get a good sports bra with full support that adjusted at the back for 'fat' days and 'thin' days.  However, in the US, they all seem to be over-the-head jobs with no adjustment.  So, at a 36E, I have to struggle to get a 36, barely stretchable band, over my huge boobs, wrestle said boobs into place and hope the back isn't going to ride up all day because I'm having a 'thin' day!  Needless to say, I didn't want to put myself through this embarassment in front of the surgeon!!  So, I opted for a soft, normal, over-the-head bra that was never designed to hold things like mine despite being the right size.  Because of the lack of real support and definition, it squashed me into one continuous, droopy boob.  Oh well, at least I could get it on and off easily!  A loose top and I'm ready to go.


To make matters worse, the traffic on the way was horrific to say the least.  It was the Thursday before Easter and it looked like the world and his wife were leaving early for a few days of freedom!  SatNav kindly told us there was a 7 minute delay on our route but a faster route was available.  Would we like to take it?  Well, doh, obviously!  "There is now a 13 minute delay on your journey".  Great!  So, a faster route is actually slower.  Just what I needed!  So, I called the clinic and said I was definitely on my way.  "Not a problem".  Phew!

We pulled into the car park of the very impressive building at 10.04am.  A quick trip in the elevator and I'm standing in front of the receptionist.  My mind is spinning.  I felt so out of place, surrounded by beautiful people who looked like they had been nipped and tucked into perfection.  And here I stand; old, overweight, with sagging skin and greying hair.  What was I doing?  I can't compete with these people.  Why can't I just accept the fact that I will never look great, despite what I have done?  Unless I want to look like a plastic doll in a wind tunnel, what's the point of having a breast reduction?  There is so much more 'wrong' with me and being here slapped that fact straight around my face.  Should I just leave, accept defeat and go back to my saggy, oversized and painful world?

I sat on the edge of the soft sofa, designed to make you feel relaxed, happy and drawn into a world of make believe.  I felt anything but.  I was nervous, embarrassed and ashamed.  How had I allowed myself to get into this mess?  When I left England in December 2013, I weighed 139lbs.  At 5' 8" I was slim and toned from being a Half Marathon runner.  Since being out of running with an Achilles injury, as well as eating all the new and exciting food that the US had to offer, I haven't weighed myself since.  I'm huge, unfit, sloppy and demotivated.  At 139lbs, I would have felt so comfortable here.  "Oh, yes, look how perfect I am, apart from my empty 32DD breasts that just need a lift."  Instead, I need a whole chunk of them removing and I'll still look a mess.  I definitely don't belong in this Barbie world!

Meanwhile, my partner did his best to keep me upbeat and take my mind off the long wait.