Monday, 1 December 2008The Lord blessed me in the chest area. Abundantly.
It's not something that I particularly enjoy about myself, not being a wanton hussy who shows them off at every available oppertunity.
However, that being said, a lot of people thank that I am, simply because of their size, which is unfair, as it's not something I can do alot about. I struggle to dress modestly. I do so to the best of my ability, however, you just can't help but notice them. They're kind of out there.
Earlier this year, I was accused by my husbands best mate (and his wife) of dressing provocatively around him and flirting with him. My own husband's first reaction was to bust out laughing, the accusation was just that ridiculous. The second was to snot the guy.
I had never been in J's presence alone the entire time I had known him. They were members of our small group, which was held at our place, and most of the time, I hadn't even brushed my hair that day, and hadn't even taken the time to change my clothes and freshen up for my own husband, let alone look provocative for someone elses.
I'll take this moment to say that C is as FLAT AS A TACK.
But there's no bitterness there, no sireee.
I won't go into all the details of how this deeply affected me, for days, weeks and even months, suffice to say it was all very confusing, humiliating and hurtful, there was a bunch of stuff said and we don't speak anymore. And they left the church the next day.
All of that was to preface this: I got a referal to a plastic surgeon about a month ago. When I gave it into his office to book an appointment, I was told he was not taking on any more patients this year, and wouldn't be looking at any referals until the new year.
I got a letter last week, telling me I had an appointment with him the beginning of February.
I'm not doing it because of what happened. I'll admit that the knee jerk reaction was to go out and get a loan to have the work done the very next day. But I didn't, because that would be doing something rather dramatic in the wrong spirit. This is something that I have been contemplating for many, many years. However, I can no longer find clothes that fit me without looking like a tent, I have permanent dents in my shoulders from the weight, my back is constantly sore, and I recently had a mole cut out of one , and the weight of them popped the stitches. I purchase my bras from England because you can't buy my size commercially (30K), and I pay on average $100 AUD a bra.
Over here, a reduction is classified as a medical procedure, not a cosmetic one, and therefore fully covered by medicare. (I love "socialised medicine" *cheeky wink* It works over here.) Yet, I'd put it off for years and years. However, it's become more than ridiculous. My husband is fully supportive (though a little sad *wink*) and he has been wonderful through the whole ordeal.
*shrug* The letter has made it all a little more real, I suppose. Don't quite know how to process it all. I know it's not going to make me a better person, just a more comfortable one.