"I took off my 14GG bra and said goodbye to the girls." A diary of my breast reduction.

Women would always stop me and say “Wow! You’re sooo lucky, I wish I had your boobs, want to give me some?”

They’d laugh at how hilariously original their joke was and go on with their lives. What they didn’t know was that their idea of having big boobs was just a fashion statement but for me and so many others, it was a living nightmare.

What it’s really like to have big boobs

I was a late bloomer compared to my friends, their boobs came in Year 7 while I was still sporting my training bra and stuffing it with tissues (be careful what you wish for). By Year 9 I went from a B cup to a full DD, skipped past pretty bikinis and went straight to anything with underwire.

For the next ten years I would slowly grow to 14GG, and while my weight had been steady in my early 20s they still managed to grow like the Violet Beauregarde of boobs.

For those of you who were blessed with an A-D cup, you were able to avoid the expensive bra shopping and wearing two sports bras during sports. You probably weren’t subjected to men and even women looking at your breasts before making eye contact with you, or suffering egregious back pain and dents in your shoulders, or being frustrated because you can’t find an outfit that fits you properly.

 

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So I decided to have a breast reduction…

I was on the fence for years before I made the decision. The body positive community that surrounds my curvy dress hire business, 808 Threads, made me realise I deserve to feel confident.

Last summer was the final nail in the coffin: I became tired of feeling like a walking porno while wearing singlets or bikinis; it was attention I didn’t want.

To top it off I just couldn’t stand that I had the sagging breasts of a 90 year old woman at 24. I yearned to feel the freedom of going braless in public, and jog without pain, and be perky for once in my life.

Pre-surgery

I met my surgeon and we set the date for March 21, five days after my birthday so I could have one last dance with them (my friends called it ‘saying ta-ta to my ta-tas’.) In the weeks leading up to surgery I became more aware and annoyed with my breasts than ever before, I couldn’t wait to get rid of them!

 

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People asked if I was nervous about it and I’d say I was both excited and a little sad; my breasts had been a significant part of my identity and it was a bittersweet goodbye, but I was really looking forward to my new lease on life.

I got to my hospital room and took off my 14GG bra for the last time, put on a sexy hospital gown and said goodbye to the girls.

Post surgery

I woke up in a white recovery room with nurses around my bed, coming out of the best sleep of my life. Still feeling a little out of it from the anaesthetic, I looked at the nurse and asked if it went okay. She replied; “You did great, you had 590 grams removed from one side and 610 grams from the other, you’re officially a D cup, well done!”

I started bawling my eyes out—tears of joy—as I looked down at my chest to my newbies (new boobies).

 

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What I still remember vividly is the first time I went to the toilet; with help from the nurse I sat on the loo and realised what I didn’t feel: no more heavy breasts sitting on my tummy, the sagging was gone!

I cried again – the nursing staff must have thought I was the biggest sook.

Living in my button-up pjs, the first 10 days after surgery were a haze; mainly filled with sleeping in, napping and eating light due to the painkillers. It was hard to focus and walking to the shops on day seven was a triumph, while cheering on the sidelines for my soccer team on day 12 resulted in a four hour nap.

I yearned for a full body shower, I couldn’t get my dressings wet until my two week check up; my hairdresser at Raw Couture kindly washed and braided my hair to keep it low maintenance!

Being a passenger was nightmarish; essentially there’s a pillow between you and the seatbelt because let me tell you, you can feel every tiny bump in the road.

I started driving after two weeks with pillow in hand, partly because I was going stir-crazy at home and made an indent in the couch. You can’t over-do it when steering either, the chest and arms are connected more than we think – I struggled to open fridge doors or pull clothes over my head!

Recovery became easier each week after what felt like the longest month ever and I began to fit into my clothes properly, my posture improved, and I went for my first jog—unfit as I was—it was bloody amazing!

What was most fabulous of all was that I felt this version of myself – the carefree, comfortable, confident version – was finally liberated at long last.

Six months later

It’s an addictive feeling, being this at-home with your body.

When I look back at photos of me being self-conscious and uncomfortable I feel sad. Women who have had the surgery, myself included, will often say “I wish I had it sooner” because of how fantastic it is to be confident in your skin.

 

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I am proud of putting my health and quality of life before what people say looks good. I made the decision to put me first and look and feel better than ever!

If you’re thinking of having a reduction, on a waiting list or have had one, I am proud of you for having the courage to do the same. You are strong, beautiful and fierce, and you are worthy of your best life.