I didn’t fuck my complex … instead I had surgery

January 9, 2019

Ah, the complexes …

Fuck her complex, harder than it looks

These little details that we are the only ones to notice in front of the mirror, it seems, and that rot the lives of superficial adolescents and young adults (especially of the female gender of course, we know that we don’t give a damn).

A good war or a small smallpox epidemic to make them aware of what they have now, that’s what these young people are missing! And then inside “Positive for the body”there is positive No ? But the others speak of a “Negative body” ? Would that make sense? In any case, this is what evokes me, in my case.

If at seventeen someone had told me about it fuck its complex or self-acceptance through self-persuasion, I know I just wanted to slap him in the face.

And frankly, even today, I’m not sure I’d take it well… Because I’m one of those people who has had social security money for so many years. plastic surgery.

My asymmetrical breasts, my unbearable complex

My complex was born around the fourth.

The adolescent textbook my family had found for me (not the worst on the market) specified that it was possible “Have a slight difference in shape or size between the two breasts”.

For me the difference was such I needed a C cup on the left and not even an A on the right.

I had red stretch marks around my left breast. Stretch marks, as you may know, are scars caused by skin failing to keep up with the rapid growth of underlying tissues whether by age, weight or pregnancy.

The skin is not as firm as it should have been. My left breast was falling out so, at nineteen, e the nipple was looking at the ground. Also with a particular shape called “tuberose”: a large part of the meat contained in the breast migrates to the nipple which was therefore enormous.

All very soft of course, compared to the scars that had become thin and white because the skin was not supporting anything.

I chose surgery to feel better about myself

I have no particular disease.

The doctors, unable to explain what I had, concluded ityou should have plastic surgery hope for a solution. A gynecologist used the expression “ get massacred on the operation. I didn’t care at all.

No one around me, apart from my family, had noticed the problem (I was exonerated from the pool from the fifth to last year for a dark history of a plantar wart).

I used various tricks to inflate the A cup, from cotton pads to stop breastfeeding to post-surgery foam breast cancer cups. I was too afraid of the reactions of other high school students to dare to talk about it around me … I have never been suicidal, but the idea that my malformation was known made me think about taking action.

Not to mention it was like a Machiavellian chastity belt that interrupted most of my desires to go check out my classmates’ underpants, as reciprocity would be delicate.

The complex of the asymmetry of my breasts in intimacy

I thought I could do it scare any guy by lifting my top (Reassure, in the end I never tried). I ended up losing my virginity anyway, but wearing a t-shirt: my boyfriend at the time could never see my breasts.

The question of the asymmetry of my breasts it obsessed me so much that I invented complicated pathologies to explain my problem. A mosaic cufflink on the chest? A strange form of hermaphroditism?

I remember bursting into tears during my first vaginal exam. I was convinced that the gynecologist would find something abnormal deep in my vagina (indeed no) …

She was perplexed to see me put myself in such a state, but I don’t know if she realized it was associated with my chest.

Breast plastic surgery at age 19

And finally, at 19 I was able to operate. Why at 19 and not at 18? I went to the cosmetic surgeon for the first time in high school at the age of 17. But that told me he couldn’t operate on me as long as I was overweight.

The risk was that if I lost weight later I might have an asymmetry in the opposite direction again. My father, who accompanied me to the consultation, stated that he would oppose the operation as long as I had not lost the extra pounds.

(I was eighty by five foot and seventy-four. In retrospect, that wasn’t much actually …) In short, in 2006-2007, I became obsessed with food. I reached sixty-five kilos in six months after a crash diet.

My right breast has not grown and no one knows why

Finally the time comes to review the operation, without my father (yay). He took my picture for the health insurance file. In fact, I was undoubtedly, according to him, in the criteria for the reimbursement of at least part of the transaction.

I asked him again if he knew a possible origin of my malformation. As she says, “there is a gland” in her right breast, but she had no idea why she wasn’t pushing …

Poland syndrome is a bit like the one I have, but this is much more severe and extensive (this is a malformation during gestation in which the entire right side of the body can be malformed, with a shorter right arm than left or missing muscles for example).

What about health insurance? Sometimes there is a follow-up visit to make sure the operation is justified.

In my case, this step was skipped (the person who received the photos had to do it “oh fuck” and I stamped my file without deeming it necessary to meet me). So I was operated on with part of the public money. My father paid the other half without asking me anything else (losing weight at least allowed it).

How is breast surgery performed?

The operation it consisted of inflating the right breast with a silicone prosthesis (as for a classic breast augmentation). On the other hand, it was necessary to rework the left breast to make it match with the right (this was still much uglier than the right even though it was bigger).

The surgeon was used to this type of technique: although my case was rare, his patients often suffered from breast cancer and needed it.an operation to hide the asymmetry. Sometimes it’s more than just putting a denture on one side.

A visit to the hospital and a scar on her breast

The surgery in the clinic went well. I was operated on around 8 am under general anesthesia and woke up in the afternoon.

I had a fairly light bandage on my chest (full of bruises and betadine spots with bonus drainage) and no skin sensation on either side.

Inevitably, to pass the scalpel, the nerve endings are a bit severed, the sensitivity takes a long time to return!

On the left, the surgery removed all the skin weakened by the stretch marks to reconstruct a rounded breast closer to the right.

In the end, gives me an anchor shaped scar of a sailorwith a circle around the nipple (which was stitched directly to the healthiest skin, so all the skin directly around it was removed).

Having two breasts that I love and accept

therefore Now I have two breasts of the same size, but they still don’t have any family resemblance to each other.

Nipples, for example, don’t look alike at all. I have hair that I remove with tweezers on the right and nothing like it on the left!

But you know what? I do not care. Compared to the hassle before the operation, it is such a joy that this kind of minor inconvenience is nothing.

I can forget for days and days the presence of my right prosthesis. The obsession with my breasts disappeared overnight with the operation, which freed up a lot of free time for the brain.

I know it’s artificial, but I don’t think about it on a daily basis.

Ten years have passed.

By the way, I almost immediately regained all the weight I lost from the operation. As soon as my great cause disappeared, the urge to eat and recover all the missing calories came like a galloping horse!

But I don’t give a damn, and today I’m taking my operation and my old deformity very well.

Relieved, I feel good about myself, I have no regrets!

If I had to do things again, I would do exactly the same again.

I don’t know if there is a therapy that could have made me accept my chest as it was … But I think it would have been so long that it would have made me lose all the years in my twenties and thirties.

You don’t die of asymmetry, of the chest, it’s true.

But the operation changed my life and it gave me a relief that I never would have felt otherwise. I have regained an energy that I can use for more useful purposes.

The operation gave me a self-confidence that I still need today. In fact, I have nothing to say to people who have complexes. Everyone is different, and repeating to tears that there is no problem where there is clearly one, it does not help.

I wish everyone would find a way to accept themselves, but sometimes the scalpel is just the simplest solution!