One week away from surgery

I'm about a week away from my surgery and I'm getting really nervous/scared. This is something I've wanted for years. I've been told by my doctor that I'm on the smaller side of the spectrum for getting this surgery. I'm not sure of my actual breast size as I haven't been measured in a while, but I would guess it's verging into DD territory. I wear a 38D pretty uncomfortably. My breasts hang pretty low, so can be difficult to figure out the appropriate cup size. I'm 5'2" and about 175lbs. My breasts have felt uncomfortable on my body for really my whole life (psychologically), and have given me physical discomfort for probably the last 6 or so years.
I've pretty much given up on exercising because i can't stand the restricted feeling of the sports bras I need to wear to keep myself strapped in. Every time I tried to go to the gym I would feel like I couldn't breathe, and would start to panic and feel nauseous. Not to mention the anxiety of feeling like everyone is looking at you and judging you. Even when my breasts were smaller, I never liked them and felt they were a mismatch from who I felt I really was. They were/are the thing that everyone notices first. Keeping them covered up means wearing baggy unflattering tops and dresses. Wearing something form fitting feels basically pornographic to me and I hate the reaction I get from people. I'm a creative, shy weirdo who doesn't identify as particularly femme.
Anyhow, I sought out a surgeon in my area (Dr. Helena Taylor) just to see if a breast reduction would even be: a. possible, and b. covered by my insurance. To my great surprise, insurance approved it. Dr. Taylor has been really great. Exactly the kind of bedside manner you would want. I was terrified I would be told to lose weight before a procedure would be possible. A huge part of the reason I want the reduction in the first place is to be able to lose weight! I miss feeling at home in my body, although it's a feeling I can barely remember from maybe my childhood.
My surgery is on October 11. I keep reminding myself that this is something I want and will make me feel better, but the idea of someone cutting into my body and the idea that this is something I would sign up for is still a bit unsettling to me. I keep thinking, is this something that someone who loves themself would do? And I keep having to remind myself that, yes, that is why you are doing it.
My greatest fear is that she won't take enough mass out for me to feel a difference. She had originally estimated 250 g from one and 300g from the other. The one frustrating thing is that she can't/won't estimate final cup size, and that's literally the only way I know how to understand breast size.
I've spent so much time reading everyone's reviews on here and it really has been so amazing that there is this community of people who are so generous to share their personal journeys. It's really been so helpful to have you all here. I guess I'm writing my own now because I'm hoping there's someone listening and knows what I'm going through. It's such a roller coaster of emotions and it's so hard to explain to my husband or friends.

I have so many complicated feelings about my breasts, I decided to write a letter to them. Here it is, and I hope it can be helpful to anyone out there who is struggling. xo

A letter to my boobs on the eve of their reduction 10/10/2018

It feels like I’ve known you for almost my whole life.

I’m not sure if I remember this from real life or photos I’ve seen, but we used to hang out a lot together: run around naked on the lawn together, take baths in the sink, maybe even go to the beach in just a diaper or a pair of baby shorts. I can almost remember the heat of the sun on you, and the feel of the open air.

Back then, I wasn’t scared of you. All of my parts were part of a whole, and we all got along seamlessly, learning new things together and enjoying what it was like to be a person, alive.

My body was a vessel for my emotions, always expressed outwardly, I cried when I was sad, I laughed when I was happy, I loved my family and I loved myself. I wouldn’t have been able to recognize the purity of these feelings, I was too little and I didn’t know yet what we would become. But I can say with certainty that love filled and surrounded me, unencumbered. We were complete.

Then it changed. I went to school that day wearing a blue tie dyed v-neck tee shirt. It was the 6th grade, I was maybe 12. All of the boys stared and whispered about me. Something was different. You were different. That day I learned that a part of my body could have consequences beyond my control. That’s when I started to break apart.

I felt betrayed and angry and embarrassed. I didn’t want this attention and I didn’t know how to live with it. I decided that you scared me. I wished I could go back to the way things were before. I was bookish and liked to read and had a wild imagination. I wrote a story about a girl who turned into a bird and flew away out the window while her friend watched and waved goodbye. I wrote poems about leaves falling and time passing. I began to be afraid of time.

I realized eventually that you were a kind of power I could wield. The boys who had bullied me a year ago all took turns asking me to go out with them, and I laughed at them. I saw them get hurt but it wasn’t me causing it, it was someone else now. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I had been raised to be kind and inquisitive. Now I was angry and frightened and sad. And it was your fault. I hated you.

Then grown men started to notice you. They winked and stared and said things I didn’t understand. One day, my own father joked about you-- and in that moment I shrunk so, so, small inside myself that I knew I could never come out again. During the following years I folded myself into a series of progressively smaller parts, learning when to hide and when to hide deeper. But no matter how much I hid, you were always front and center.

I learned to sort of ignore you when I could, and was forced into a complicated game when I couldn’t. People wanted you, but I didn’t understand why. You weren’t me anymore, we weren’t each other. I let others touch you and feel you. I was numb, apart from you. It was normal to be nice and to let it happen. I wanted to be normal. I wished I could be myself.

Everything about you is big. You’ve always claimed an outsize portion of my body and my mind. You hang heavy, knock into things. You keep me off balance, off t-shirts, off exercise machines. You weigh down my lungs and my neck and my back. You age me. You make me ancient and awkward. Nothing fits you, you bust through all manner of hammocks and netting. You’ve absorbed my waist and my gender identity. What if I don’t want to be a curvy femme person? You’ve never considered what I want.

This is why I’m writing to you. It’s not working out. It hasn’t been working out for a long time, since the time when you first claimed almost everything I had.

I want myself back. I want my space and my time and my thoughts and my body back. I want my life back, so I’m taking it.

I’m sorry things have to be this way. But you’re not me, not all of me. I want things that you could never dream of. You’re holding me back.

I imagine the possibility of a new relationship with you, one where I’m in charge. I want to feel happy again and free. Letting you go isn’t an act of cruelty though, or of hate. It’s one of the bravest things I have ever done. It’s an act that is so full of love and compassion and hopefulness for myself and the possibilities of my life. This letter to you, it turns out, is a love letter to me.

I did it! So far the pain has been manageable, just a constant dull ache with some slight burning and itchiness. I haven't looked yet because I'm very squeamish, but my husband has been checking the pads and so far no seepage or blood. He says my boobs are very bruised and a lot smaller than before. They feel really high up on my chest right now, but from what I've heard they do eventually drop a little. Dr. Taylor couldn't have been nicer or kinder though this whole process. She calls back right away when I call her office with questions, and her bedside manner was so calming and nice. I still have a surprising feeling sometimes that I actually did this. It feels so surreal. It's definitely going to be a long road but I'm really looking forward to being able to fit into tops better and start exercising again. I have a follow up appointment next week and I'll let you know how it goes!