Knock, Knock, Knockers

Looking at myself in the mirror this morning I just couldn’t help but think to myself, “Jesus Christ almighty, you have NO friggin boobs.” Actually, I’ve had those thoughts almost every morning of every day since around the time I hit puberty - just about the time when I realized that “this” was as good as it was going to get (placing arms on hips while slowing turning from side to side – don’t forget the loud sigh). Yes, I have a flat chest and no I’m not happy with it.

I know, I know…I need to love what God gave me and all that jazz but in today’s society, where getting breast implants are as easy as taking a trip to your local grocery store (I’ll take the 360 cc’s variety with a saline fill, please) it can’t hurt to at least look in to it, right? If I’ve been thinking about this since I was a teenager, what’s the problem with exploring my options?

Good! I’m glad you see it my way because I’ve made my appointment. No, no…don’t worry. It’s just a consultation at this point. I’m neither sold nor against it at this time. However, I am really excited about talking with a respected Dr. that can tell me my options and offer some advice about making an informed decision. I owe it to myself to at least explore the possibility since it is something that means a lot to me.

Why am I sharing this? I’m not entirely sure – I think I wanted to give you fair warning so that if the next time you see me I have huge knockers, you won’t be surprised. JUST KIDDING…I had you there. They wouldn’t be HUGE per se, just kind of huge…