I Wish I Could Go Back in Time and Punch Myself in the Face - Jacksonville, FL

In 2009 I finally made the decision to get implants. I was always the flat-chested girl, even in a family of large-breasted females and maybe some males, who knows, but basically everyone but ME had boobs. Flash forward to 2000 and I'm working out like a fiend and was almost concave I was so flat. I saw a surgeon at that point but couldn't afford it. Flash forward to 2009 and I had a great job and a 401K account. Woohoo, BOOBS! I scheduled an appointment to see the doctor based on recommendations from a few girls I knew, and within a month I had (I think) 525 cc Mentor silicone implanted over the muscle. (Before I go any further I want to note that my PS was and is still awesome and where I'm at has nothing to do with him. He's an artist and even now my boobs look perfect.)

The first year I had implants was great. The novelty of giant boobs was astounding. Finally, ME, the girl who used to have a sternum with nipples now had the nicest set of boobs and all my friends loved them and wanted to see them and poke at them. I was so enamored of having something to show off that I didn't care, "poke away girls!" Then I moved into the second year of having them. The novelty had worn off and I was really starting to notice just how much I could not wear that I used to take for granted. Tank tops and baggy skater pants. Sports bras (hell bras period). Anything remotely low cut. Suddenly I was struggling to find clothing because the newness had worn off and I wanted to wear what I loved. Oh well, the price you pay for boobs (I told myself sternly). Suck it up.

Year 3 - I'm really starting to hate these things. I have to focus not to slump, anything remotely fitted looks whorish, and during the drop and fluff phase I went up at least 2 cup sizes and was doing time as a FF cup instead of the DD I thought I'd end up as. (ARGH!) One lovely side benefit of the drop and fluff is that my body, which is short-waisted, isn't BUILT to have boobs dropping so low. At year 3 I'm starting to look fat as hell (and have also gained weight anyway because for some reason I'm always too tired to work out).

Now I'm into year 4 and shopping is a chore instead of fun. Nothing I want to wear fits because if it fits everywhere else, my [RS bleep] keep me from wearing it. Everything I see is now cut for girls with small chests (you know, the natural look). I'm looking at boob removal on the down low because my boyfriend, who I love more than anything, loves giant fake boobs and he always talks about how perfect mine are, the most perfect he's ever seen. At this point we've also been together 4 years...me, him, and the ever-growing obnoxious set of Twins that can't take a hint and stop taking up so much f**king space on my body. About a month ago, maybe less, I finally got the nerve to really start talking to him about the boobs and how much I absolutely, positively, no holds barred, HATE THESE F**KING THINGS. He is upset and confused. But you love them, he thinks. Except see, this is my fault because I didn't tell him 3 years ago how much they were bugging me. Now I hate them. Now they are ruining my life. But ok. I love him more than I love myself, more than I hate these damn plastic lumps. So I decide to keep them. He's relieved. I'm miserable.

However, I can't stop looking at implant removal. Then I see something about girls who had implants getting horrible migraines. Wha....what a minute! My inner smart girl who has been suffocated by brain-dead-[RS bleep]-pornstar-Barbie started screaming at me. And then it hit me. I NEVER used to have migraines on a monthly basis. I used to have them less than once a year. But...but...silicone is safe damnit! That's why I got these gel silicone, because they were safe now. So then I do research. And more research. And am steadily growing horrified at what I'm finding. Migraines (check). Joint pain (check). Inflammation (check). Brain fog (check). Random insomnia (check). Extreme fatigue (check). In fact, I have most of the symptoms women who've had problems with their implants reported. Maybe it's the natural course of aging. Maybe I just stopped exercising because I was always too tired. Maybe...I should consider that my body is sick of having these things and do something about it. So I set up an appointment with a PS in Jacksonville that one of the other girls on here went to. My appointment is on June 2 for a consultation. Originally I wanted to go back to my original PS. However, he's over 2 hours away now, and it's impractical. Also...he did a beautiful job and I don't want to ask him to destroy his work. Feels wrong.

Now here's the kicker, this is why my long rant, why I wish I could go back in time to December of 2009 and punch myself in the face and show her these pictures. The ones that show that I was in fairly good shape. The ones that show that my small boobs were perfect. The ones that show that I didn't slump and always had very good posture. I want these things out as soon as I can. My boyfriend has come over the hurdle and is trying to be supportive. He ultimately loves me for me and the fake boobs are just a bonus. I'll post again when I have my consult with Dr. C and maybe even post some pics of what my boobs look like now so I can start my own chronicle of why you should never, ever, [RS bleep] ever mess with something that isn't an issue. Thank you ladies, for all your stories on here and for giving me the courage to start my own that will, hopefully, give someone after me the bravery to start her own story too.

This is a totally delayed posting but amid seeing Dr. CK I have also been moving into a new house (hurray thank you sweetheart!) and planning a rushed trip to New York (again thank you honey!).
Dr. CK was no-BS, did not try to push new implants or a lift on me, and his scheduler Lori is fantastic. I wanted to get my surgery this summer but with the trip to NY it is going to be more into the Fall. Dr. CK and Lori mentioned I could just do the surgery with local anesthesia (less money and I wouldn't have to go under) but I think I'd be way too much of a baby to be awake for that, even though my implants are above the muscle. I'd rather just wake up asking if I'm flat-chested again. :)
I'm super excited and cannot wait to schedule my surgery and have it done. Thanks to all the wonderful girls on here for the well-wishes so far, and I hope everyone who is going through or has gone through the surgery is keeping a happy and positive outlook. No matter what, we are PRETTY ladies. :D Muwah!

So I've taken the leap and paid my deposit and have my pre-op on December 2 and my surgery on December 18. I've taken a week off work, to coincide with the Christmas holiday so I get even more days off. I'm scared about surgery again and my supportive boyfriend has moments where he is a colossal fucktard, whether he realizes it or not. I'm so sick of being scared of this and having to babysit his feelings. Today I asked him if he'd still love me after explant and he said "I hope so. I won't be happy but I'm sure I will." And then it hit me. No matter how much he loves me, no matter how much he claims he is being supportive, comments like that are not supportive and are not helpful. No matter what he says, he is still internalizing this and making it all about him and I'm so [RS bleep] sick of it I'm ready to pack a bag and leave home for a week. He does all this amazing stuff for me, and yet this he's a dick about because somehow I'm being an ass by taking away his funbags. He hasn't come out and said that, but it's the feeling. Would any of you joke with your significant other about surgery? I wouldn't. I would never tell him "oh if you don't get a dick implant I won't love you" "Oh if you don't stop hunting I won't love you" "Oh if you don't get rid of that doc I [RS bleep] hate I won't love you" etc. I needed a place to vent about this and I can't tell my family and friends and if I confront him he'll just say he was kidding. Did any of you ladies go through this? I'm at the end of my patience because while I wait to get surgery I'M the one who has to deal with how I will look, how I will feel, whether I will feel ugly, whether my health will improve, whether I will feel depressed or relieved, etc. I shouldn't have to keep babysitting his stupid obsession with fakies. I'm so close to telling him to just buying a [RS bleep] when he wants to touch fakies and to stop making me feel bad. Ugh.