I Had Plastic Surgery But I’m Still A Body Activist
Warning: Graphic content ahead.
Another Warning: This article contains improper surgical terms. Deal with it.
“Emery, you just had surgery and you are now in the recovery room. How are you feeling?”
It was August 29th of 2016 and I had just surgically altered my body. But let me start from the very beginning.
I was sitting in a plastic surgeon’s office on a cold December morning in 2015. There were posters on the wall advertising the latest in ass sculpting, fat burning, and lip plumping procedures. The computer’s screensaver featured a slideshow starring the Doctor and his undeniably attractive family, probably on a vacation somewhere warm. As I watched the photos rotate through I began to wonder if this was the
right choice or not. Body positivity was still a new concept to me and by sitting here waiting for my consultation, was I going against everything I had been learning? If I were to get a breast reduction would that make me less of a Body Activist and more of a Body Improvement Promotor?
The size of my B.R. (Before Reduction) boobs was off the charts. Quite literally. They were too big to be considered a “normal” size (A, B, C, D, DD, DDD) which required me to shop at specialty stores. Did you know that the word ‘specialty’ actually means ‘expensive’? So here I am, buying bras that look like they belong in my great aunts closet and that cost the equivalent of my rent. Okay, maybe I exaggerated on the price but girl, big breasted bras don’t come cheap. Or cute. Give me support and give me sexy. Let’s call it sexy support. Before my surgery, I never owned sexy support. The colour options available to me were black, white, nude and occasionally navy. If I was lucky, maybe I could get a bra with a bow on the front. How very Parisian.
At the time I was working +8 hours every day standing on my feet, and by hour two my back was throbbing, I was slouched over, and my bra straps were digging into my skin no matter what style of grandma bra I had on. It was time I looked into my options. Here’s the cool thing about Canadian healthcare, specifically Ontario (Sorry, American friends!). If you can prove that you’re having back problems from the sheer weight of your titties, the government will cover the cost of a Breast Reduction Surgery. All you have to do is apply. And that’s exactly what I did.
Remember the double warning at the beginning of this article? Ya, it’s v important right now. If you don’t want to hear about the actual nip and tuck, skip ahead to the next paragraph, but if you like nitty-gritty gore then let me tell you, breast reductions are no joke! They basically cut your entire areola off and place it to the side. I’m guessing there’s a nipple nurse waiting to take it and put it on ice (lmao imagine). The doctor then cuts straight down from where your nipple used to be and cuts just below your under-boob. They call it the kitty cat cut because the incision is supposed to look like a cat’s nose and mouth. They liposuction the fatty tissue in your breast and around the sides of your ribs. Big boobs pull all of that good stuff down and to the front. Once they’ve taken out the desired amount, they cut off any extra boob skin to form it back in shape, instead of leaving the skin as is and making your breast look like a half empty water balloon. The nipple nurse returns and (if you’re still with me, you might want to sit down for this part) they staple your nipple back on. I repeat. THEY STAPLE YOUR NIPPLE BACK ON. Didn’t I tell you? A breast reduction is no joke.
Okay, so we’re back where we began. I’m in the recovery room, I couldn’t believe the feeling of pure euphoria that had washed over me. Maybe that feeling came from the massive amounts of painkillers I was on, but I felt good, really good. All I wanted to do was grab my new tits and feel them form the shape of my palm. Unfortunately, feeling myself up would have to wait for a couple more days until a day nurse came to visit my home and change the bandages. When the reveal officially happened, my skin was different hues of purple and yellow bruises all over my chest. Don’t even get me started on my stapled nipples! Even though my boobs looked like they had been in a fight and lost, I couldn't help but smile. My new breasts were beautiful! They still looked like mine, just smaller. My two favorite moles that occupied the left nipple were still in contact! Recovery is about a two-month process. The first two weeks require you to lay in bed with minimal physical activity. You’ll need a friend or family member to sponge bathe you - did I mention you can’t shower for a week because the incisions are still fresh? Ya, Stinky City: population Emery. You cannot lift your arms above your head either. So forget about your independence. Following the first two (hard) weeks, I could return back to work, but any form of exercise was absolutely restricted for a couple more months. Your tits will thank you later.
So why do I consider myself a Body Activist? I had plastic surgery. I changed what the universe gave me. I don’t deserve that title, right? Well, that’s dead wrong. I altered my body to adjust my quality of life. My B.R. boobs were very much a part of me, however, the physical pain ended up controlling my life. I loved my body, but I was ready to say goodbye. I now live a life I always envisioned. I can run hard and it doesn’t hurt. I can wear bikinis and it doesn’t hurt. I can stand for 8 straight hours and guess what? It doesn’t hurt! I CAN FINALLY WEAR SEXY BRAS!!!!!
Maybe by the end of this article, you won’t agree with me, and that’s okay. I don’t think that there is a be-all end-all when it comes to Body Activism. To me, Body Positivity is the way you treat your body both mentally and physically with the utmost respect. Your body is just that. It’s yours. Love it, cherish it, and treat it as the damn temple that it is. I didn’t choose to alter my body for the sake of loving it. I loved it before. I love it now. And I’ll probably even love it on the days when I don’t love it at all.
To my old boobs: Thank you for growing. Thank you for being juicy and beautiful. Thank you for always challenging me. See ya never!