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I should of course have listened to my deep inner...
I should of course have listened to my deep inner self and then I would have spared myself the discomfort of two surgeries (not to mention all the money), but hey, you live and you learn. Even at 65, ha!
On March 5 2013 I had silicone implants inserted, 250 cc, something like a medium C cup. The recovery was swift and I was overjoyed at these projecting boobs, which looked really good, quite like Barbie, round and high on the chest. I purchased lovely bras to hold the beautiful new jewels, started wearing tops which showed off my new cleavage (my own natural A did not do much in that way) and enjoyed the glances they attracted - later, when doubt had set in, I got to questioning whether those glances concerned the new boobs or... the actual me, the vehicle, the person, the woman, that held them. For that matter, I did not experience any discomfort, my new boobs really were a well behaved pair.
So far so good.
Some two months ago I eyed those two below my chin with suspicion. Were they mine? Certainly not. Where had my "petiteness" gone? Somehow I looked "matronly", whenever I caught sight of myself in one of those unexpected shop windows that put you eye to eye with you. I became annoyed with the way they jiggled, when I moved around around the house, bra-less. And when I snuggled up at night, on my side, I could feel them sort of "roll over". And the last straw was that I could barely endure my bra anymore, it cut into my flesh, I was constantly tugging at it to adjust - although it was a perfect fit.
I need to add that for the past eight months I had undergone bouts of depression and been feeling a lot of unexplained fatigue, where I am by nature full of life and energy.
To make a long story short: these two impostors whom I had invited in myself, had to go, and ASAP.
I called the clinic where I had the implant done, and a date for the consultation with the surgeon (the same one) was fixed, just a two week's wait. I counted the hours.
The surgeon, Dr. Van der Weij (Boerhaave Kliniek, Amsterdam) wondered about my decision. So I told him all of the above. He took this in with due seriousness but when I came to the bit about the depression and fatigue he said: "That has never been scientifically supported." So I answered: "Maybe not, but my own report is as good as it gets....for me."
He is an excellent surgeon by the way, and a very nice person, with a good sense of humour.
The rest is quickly told: June 10 was set for the explant and again I counted the hours and the minutes between then and ... liberation.
On that grand day it all went by like a dream: undressing, donning the operation garb ( a light blue paper kimono), meeting the doctor at the bedside, him taking some notes and finally marking the area for the incisions with a marker, below my breasts, in the fold. I clearly recall the talk with the anesthesiologist, who was really funny, he showed me around the operating room and explained what all the gadgets were for, which was very interesting; the last thing I remember (the surgery would be done under general anesthesia), were the questions he put to me after putting a hypo in my arm as I lay on the operation table: "What is your full name, what is your date of birth, where were you born?" I dished up the information, then he said "You passed your exam...er... what was your date of birth?" so I glibly responded "Well, looks like you did not pass yours..." - I heard the others laughing as I slid away.
Next thing was that I woke up in the recovery room, a little sleepy still but otherwise okay. The nurses were perfect angels, they brought me soup and crackers with cheese when I had shaken off the last bit of grogginess, I was starving, not having eaten or drank anything since eleven the night before - then afterwards came the support bra, a black solid affair, which clung to my old familiar boobs like a glove - I looked down briefly at my chest and what I saw wasn't anything off putting but still didn't dare to hold up the little mirror in my make-up case.
Another hour later and I was ready to go home. When I stood beside the bed, fully dressed, I felt wonderfully light and "unburdened" , just like two years before. However, there was the shadow of worry hanging over me, lest it would turn out that my own boobs had suffered a bad blow, even though doctor Van der Weij had told me that my boobs most likely would not have changed much, due to the short period of time they had accommodated the implants and too the skin on my rump is naturally firm or even "thick" and quite elastic. The nurse handed me the plastic packet containing the two implants, still warm from the cleaning treatment they had received. And they looked none the worse for their adventure! Hopefully the boobs that had hosted them would not either....
When I arrived at the reception the receptionist had already taken the receiver from its cradle to call a taxi for me, but I waved my hand, thanked her for "everything" and with a smile I ran out and to my bike, before anyone could stop me, unlocked it and cycled home, a ten minutes ride.
Once home I ... talked with some people on the phone.... had something to eat.... opened my laptop to write in my blog.... and *refrained* from looking at my boobs, putting that off till the day after.
That moment, assessing the result, came some three days after, June 13: I went into the room with the tall mirror, camera in hand, just wearing pink baggy pants, struck some poses and clicked the shutter - the light was bad for photography, but anyhow, what the photos show are the breasts as they look in the morning light just the same. The pain from the incisions, under the breast, in the fold, was negligible, more like I had been rubbing too hard with an old threadbare towel.
I feel simply wonderful, the same l'il ol me I used to be.
End of story, happy end.
Oh, and September 17 is the final check -
On March 5 2013 I had silicone implants inserted, 250 cc, something like a medium C cup. The recovery was swift and I was overjoyed at these projecting boobs, which looked really good, quite like Barbie, round and high on the chest. I purchased lovely bras to hold the beautiful new jewels, started wearing tops which showed off my new cleavage (my own natural A did not do much in that way) and enjoyed the glances they attracted - later, when doubt had set in, I got to questioning whether those glances concerned the new boobs or... the actual me, the vehicle, the person, the woman, that held them. For that matter, I did not experience any discomfort, my new boobs really were a well behaved pair.
So far so good.
Some two months ago I eyed those two below my chin with suspicion. Were they mine? Certainly not. Where had my "petiteness" gone? Somehow I looked "matronly", whenever I caught sight of myself in one of those unexpected shop windows that put you eye to eye with you. I became annoyed with the way they jiggled, when I moved around around the house, bra-less. And when I snuggled up at night, on my side, I could feel them sort of "roll over". And the last straw was that I could barely endure my bra anymore, it cut into my flesh, I was constantly tugging at it to adjust - although it was a perfect fit.
I need to add that for the past eight months I had undergone bouts of depression and been feeling a lot of unexplained fatigue, where I am by nature full of life and energy.
To make a long story short: these two impostors whom I had invited in myself, had to go, and ASAP.
I called the clinic where I had the implant done, and a date for the consultation with the surgeon (the same one) was fixed, just a two week's wait. I counted the hours.
The surgeon, Dr. Van der Weij (Boerhaave Kliniek, Amsterdam) wondered about my decision. So I told him all of the above. He took this in with due seriousness but when I came to the bit about the depression and fatigue he said: "That has never been scientifically supported." So I answered: "Maybe not, but my own report is as good as it gets....for me."
He is an excellent surgeon by the way, and a very nice person, with a good sense of humour.
The rest is quickly told: June 10 was set for the explant and again I counted the hours and the minutes between then and ... liberation.
On that grand day it all went by like a dream: undressing, donning the operation garb ( a light blue paper kimono), meeting the doctor at the bedside, him taking some notes and finally marking the area for the incisions with a marker, below my breasts, in the fold. I clearly recall the talk with the anesthesiologist, who was really funny, he showed me around the operating room and explained what all the gadgets were for, which was very interesting; the last thing I remember (the surgery would be done under general anesthesia), were the questions he put to me after putting a hypo in my arm as I lay on the operation table: "What is your full name, what is your date of birth, where were you born?" I dished up the information, then he said "You passed your exam...er... what was your date of birth?" so I glibly responded "Well, looks like you did not pass yours..." - I heard the others laughing as I slid away.
Next thing was that I woke up in the recovery room, a little sleepy still but otherwise okay. The nurses were perfect angels, they brought me soup and crackers with cheese when I had shaken off the last bit of grogginess, I was starving, not having eaten or drank anything since eleven the night before - then afterwards came the support bra, a black solid affair, which clung to my old familiar boobs like a glove - I looked down briefly at my chest and what I saw wasn't anything off putting but still didn't dare to hold up the little mirror in my make-up case.
Another hour later and I was ready to go home. When I stood beside the bed, fully dressed, I felt wonderfully light and "unburdened" , just like two years before. However, there was the shadow of worry hanging over me, lest it would turn out that my own boobs had suffered a bad blow, even though doctor Van der Weij had told me that my boobs most likely would not have changed much, due to the short period of time they had accommodated the implants and too the skin on my rump is naturally firm or even "thick" and quite elastic. The nurse handed me the plastic packet containing the two implants, still warm from the cleaning treatment they had received. And they looked none the worse for their adventure! Hopefully the boobs that had hosted them would not either....
When I arrived at the reception the receptionist had already taken the receiver from its cradle to call a taxi for me, but I waved my hand, thanked her for "everything" and with a smile I ran out and to my bike, before anyone could stop me, unlocked it and cycled home, a ten minutes ride.
Once home I ... talked with some people on the phone.... had something to eat.... opened my laptop to write in my blog.... and *refrained* from looking at my boobs, putting that off till the day after.
That moment, assessing the result, came some three days after, June 13: I went into the room with the tall mirror, camera in hand, just wearing pink baggy pants, struck some poses and clicked the shutter - the light was bad for photography, but anyhow, what the photos show are the breasts as they look in the morning light just the same. The pain from the incisions, under the breast, in the fold, was negligible, more like I had been rubbing too hard with an old threadbare towel.
I feel simply wonderful, the same l'il ol me I used to be.
End of story, happy end.
Oh, and September 17 is the final check -
Two and a half weeks post explant and feeling good
Hello dear ladies,
Today, June 27, and the explant already lies a fortnight and three days behind me. The incisions have stopped hurting, for that matter they weren't too painful immediately after the surgery. I take frequent looks at my two companions and while many other ladies say that their boobs are flatter than before the implant mine seem to have gotten somewhat bigger. That impression was confirmed today when fitting the new bras I bought, two sports bras (s) with padding and two underwires: a small B and an A, the latter with modest padding only in the lower half of the cup - I used to have an A cup and even then the fabric would wrinkle slightly if the cups were not padded, but now the new A bra is almost too small and the (small) B fits just fine. But perhaps that is due to the padding. I can only know for sure if I try on an A cup of slack fabric.
About the photos: the nipples...are not my own - I don't have any, sadly sadly - never had them for that matter, well, when I was younger at least the areola was nice and rosy but that too faded, so for the picture I shopped them on. Sigh. (I also had a circle of black hairs in the areola, which I pulled out with a tweezers whenever they surfaced - as a teen I was wondering whether there was something seriously wrong with me. Anyhow, those have gone too! I recall being examined for bronchitis back in 1979 by a doctor on Bali and he looked at my bared chest, listened to my breathing and then he cast another glance at my nipple-less breasts and he said "What? You have no nipples!" So I said "Doctor, I am not here for the lack of nipples, I am here for something amiss UNDER the nipples..." - anyway, he prescribed a cough syrup and as I left with the prescription he muttered again: "No nipples....strange....very strange case....."
In any case, it feels good to be my own self again, and whenever I squish them around there is no plastic between me and myself to speak.
Today, June 27, and the explant already lies a fortnight and three days behind me. The incisions have stopped hurting, for that matter they weren't too painful immediately after the surgery. I take frequent looks at my two companions and while many other ladies say that their boobs are flatter than before the implant mine seem to have gotten somewhat bigger. That impression was confirmed today when fitting the new bras I bought, two sports bras (s) with padding and two underwires: a small B and an A, the latter with modest padding only in the lower half of the cup - I used to have an A cup and even then the fabric would wrinkle slightly if the cups were not padded, but now the new A bra is almost too small and the (small) B fits just fine. But perhaps that is due to the padding. I can only know for sure if I try on an A cup of slack fabric.
About the photos: the nipples...are not my own - I don't have any, sadly sadly - never had them for that matter, well, when I was younger at least the areola was nice and rosy but that too faded, so for the picture I shopped them on. Sigh. (I also had a circle of black hairs in the areola, which I pulled out with a tweezers whenever they surfaced - as a teen I was wondering whether there was something seriously wrong with me. Anyhow, those have gone too! I recall being examined for bronchitis back in 1979 by a doctor on Bali and he looked at my bared chest, listened to my breathing and then he cast another glance at my nipple-less breasts and he said "What? You have no nipples!" So I said "Doctor, I am not here for the lack of nipples, I am here for something amiss UNDER the nipples..." - anyway, he prescribed a cough syrup and as I left with the prescription he muttered again: "No nipples....strange....very strange case....."
In any case, it feels good to be my own self again, and whenever I squish them around there is no plastic between me and myself to speak.
More photos
Forgot to add the rest of the photos before hitting "Update" for "Two and half weeks etc"
Provider Review
Dr. L.P. van der Weij
The doctor, L.P. Van der Weij, is a courteous man, sparing with words, but very very observant, and despite his reserved manner actually a caring person. From my four experiences with him (I have had two other cosmetic surgeries performed, aside from the breast implants and the explant) it appears he is a gifted surgeon. I will certainly go to him for any other future cosmetic surgery I would want to have done.