Day Zero

November 22, 2007

Just a quick post to say goodbye….to my old boobs! And to the old ‘me’. Surgery in 13 hours (6am). Getting weirdly sentimental about my body- after all, we’ve been with each other for a long time, through fat and skinny, sickness and health, misery and happiness… I’m taking risks just to have bigger breasts and I’m not regretting my decision, just thinking about it.
I have to start fasting soon (no food, water or chewing gum) and I’m also getting my shit ready for next week and washing my hands religiously with anti-bacterial soap. (The last part isn’t an official instruction from the clinic, I’m just germ-freaky).
Tip to those considering a boob job (and believe me, there will be many more tips to come I’m sure): if you’re really, really sure, and you’ve done your research and you have the money, don’t leave a huge gap between your consultation and your surgery. The wait is a nightmare.
Speaking of nightmares, I’m off home to scrub myself, not eat or smoke and try get some sleep. I shall post back on Saturday. Wish me boobs xx

So I’m in the bank getting a bank draft to send to my surgery clinic, waiting patiently while the bank clerk writes it out for me, when I see she notices it is made out to a cosmetic surgery clinic. “Oooohhhhh!” she says, as if she just discovered her married friend ran away with the local priest. “Are you getting something done?” I stare at her. “ARE YOU GETTING SOMETHING DONE?” Everyone in the bank turns to look at me (it feels like). I mutter something that sounds like a yes and before she asks me what exactly I’m getting done, I take out my iPod and deliberately put the earphones in my ears. As in, stop being so nosy, bitch. Seriously, why do people think they can comment on other people’s private lives?
(I realise I am detailing my private life on this blog but I wouldn’t shout it out to the crowd in my local bank).
I could see her eyeing me up and down trying to figure out what I’m getting done.
It’s not that hard to figure out, in fairness.

Three days to go…I’m off out now to buy sports bras for after the op.

Four days to go…

November 18, 2007

Seriously, I wish it was just tomorrow. I’m starting to unneccesarily freak out about stuff. On a positive note: my ‘flu is fading, I’ve managed to cut down to about two cigarettes a day, and I got a good reaction when I told my family. I was surprised by that, I thought my Dad would either A. mumble and leave the room or B. lecture me on spending 6000 euro on my body. But they were cool about it. I feel so much better knowing I have support. Tip: if you’re planning this and planning not to tell anyone (like I was), think again. I haven’t even had the surgery yet and I know I’m going to need help. Also, people reacted more positively than I thought they would. Well, most people. Obviously there are going to be people who think I’m crazy. But fuck them.

On the bad side, I still haven’t got enough days off work, I have no planning done, and oh yeah, I’m freaking out. I guess it’s because I don’t know what to expect really. How much pain will I be in? What if I get an infection? How big will I be? Will my housemate (and workmates) notice? How long will it take for the scars to fade? I can look up all this stuff and talk to the girls on the forum, but everyone is different so I just have to wait.

OK I need to shut up. This is a waste of a blog post.

I’ll be back again before my surgery. Then I’ll be back every day with DETAILS (And post-op photos).

This time tomorrow and a week I’ll be newly boobed up. Yes, the time is almost upon me. And how am I doing, in this time of change and major surgical procedures?
CRAP!
I’m getting the ‘flu, I’m having trouble getting seven full days off work, my house-mate is changing her weekend plans every other day, I have no preparation done around the house (apparently this is something that is important) and I’m worried I’m going to die/be scarred for life/regret this forever. On top of all that stuff I have to stop smoking and stop taking painkillers or any other drugs. I’m not an addict, OK, but at the moment I need some pharmaceutical interventions to get me through this ‘flu and stress. And I NEED A SMOKE.
Calm, calm, calm is important. Instead of panicking and freaking myself out I must restore energy levels through healthy eating, rest and meditation on why I am doing this.
Yeah RIGHT, that’s going to happen. It’s official, I’m freaked out.
I think I’ll actually just pretend it’s not happening and go on as normal until early Friday morning when I get into a taxi to go to the clinic. That’s a good plan, yes?

Black Friday

November 8, 2007

Hello, cosmetic surgery people! I’m back with an update on my boobular journey. For those who actually care. Which I’m guessing is no one.
Anyway, due to my surgeon being extremely busy, apparently, Saturday the 24th is unavailable, so it’s now Friday the 23rd at 8am. I could have had the Saturday had I not delayed my decision so much. For those who aren’t in Ireland, cosmetic surgery has been having a bad run in the press here the last while, mostly because a woman who was having a weight loss procedure (called gastric banding) died after the operation. Gah. How absolutely awful. It freaked me out for a while, until I realised 1. I’m not having this procedure and 2. I always knew there were risks.
So I decided to continue on my quest for Actual Breasts.
Although, if I die afterwards, let this blog be a testament to my vanity and stupidity. Amen.

Anyway, so Black Friday is November 23rd. I’m still trying to organise all the post-op stuff, like vitamins, easily cooked food, painkillers, the removal of all mirrors from my house. Also I need to buy some oversized button-up tops and drawstring trousers and hats to hide my unwashed, smelly hair.
Christ, I’m going to look like a cross between the homeless cat lady from The Simpsons and a housewife on antidepressants.