I CAN EMBRACE EVERYTHING EXCEPT MY TITS

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I totally understand the importance of loving yourself, all the good and the bad and most part I love myself wholly, like a best friend, my most loyal and trusted companion.

I’m in fact so proud of my body and all its achievements, that I shared my bare naked belly in all it’s wobbly and stretch marked glory on Huffington Post.

But, since my fun bags landed (pretty much overnight) at the age of 15 I’ve hated them. I’ve hidden them under baggy t-shirts (can’t use button up shirts, tits too big). I’m always conscious of the unwelcome eye drop whenever in conversation with people, eyes up people, eyes up.

I hate that they are the weight of a small infant, seriously, I’ve tried to weigh them but not so easy but I’d guesstimate they weigh a few pounds EACH which is a lot of excess baggage and leaves quite the dent in the shoulder!

I hate that I can only get ugly bras to hold them up. Bravissimo are working hard on beautifying what is essentially scaffolding, but nothing looks good in a H cup! Plus HOW MUCH?  Big bras have big price tags.  

And so at the ripe age of 43 I’ve booked a consultation to discuss breast reduction.
This has caused me ALL manor of internal battles.

Whilst the idea of being a manageable (and more pert) D cup cradled in a pretty, delicate, cheap bra makes me feel excited and ready to sign on the dotted line, the idea of hacking off great parts of my body because they don’t sit where I want them too or because my bras are ugly is making me hover over the handset ready to cancel the appointment.

Why would I cut off my breasts for what is essentially vanity? What about all the women who have to go through mastectomy’s without choice? Could I be so flippant and disrespectful to my incredible (and thank God healthy) boobs, to unnecessarily leave them discarded on the surgeons table?

Why try to fix it when it ain’t broke, right?

And this is where I’m stuck. Between being able to ‘put them right’ and the total disregard for how bloody lucky I am to have them.

I know that I’m not doing it purely for vanity, or due to the pressure put on women to look ‘perfect’, if that was the case, I’d be starting on my discoloured, wonky teeth, and hook nose.

This isn’t just about how I look. It’s about a part of my body that I’ve never liked, that I’ve hidden away and resented. I didn’t even breastfeed my 4 kids, because, boobs, too much focus on my boobs, instead I strapped them down in an ugly bra and ignored their purpose.

I’m not sure that I’ll ever connect with them or at the very least not hate them on the daily, but would I miss them when they’re gone?

I’m still undecided. 

Any advice? Do you have a friend of a friend who had it done? Care to share? 

I'm totally up for hearing all stories of breast reduction, good and bad! 

T-Shirt in photo; Raising Women