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November 15 Officially FallIt is truly and officially fall-at least on the Zoe calendar.
I've finally got everyone switched over from spring/summer clothes to fall/winter ones. In the process, I found about a dozen single gloves. It's not like the dryer is eating them-does the closet snack on them and then produce a hoard of wire hangers?
Spotted the constellation Orion for the first time yesterday. It's almost like getting a letter from a long lost friend.
I've given up my sandals and open-toed pumps for Frye boots.
Still waiting for the first official scraping-of-the-windows-after-a-shitty-night-shift- I know it's around the corner, but this is the one time global warming might not be such a bad thing.
I made a bowl of Coco-Wheats for breakfast the other day, and I'm stocking up on instant oatmeal/raisin packs. I may be too lazy to cook myself up a genuine hot breakfast, but I can nuke water for instant cereal. November 05 Too Much TogethernessThey say "absence makes the heart grow fonder." That may be true, but they also say "familiarity breeds contempt." That one I know to be true.
Since my husband's accident, he's been home all the time. The only respite I get are work and when he goes on his daily walks. Every time I turn around, he's hovering over my shoulder.
He hates to do anything on his own- he can't seem to do anything without recruiting some kind of company. He won't even go to see a movie that he really wants to see if he has to go by himself. Me- I've been to so many movies on my own that I've forgotten what it's like to whisper to the person sitting next to me.
He needs to cling. I need space. This seems like a disaster waiting to happen.
The best pre-husband boyfriend I ever had was a laid back medical student we'll call Daniel. When he went away on a spring break vacation with his friends, I didn't miss him or obscess over him. He bought me earrings while he was away. We picked up where we left off, dropping in and out of each other's lives. We got together when we could, and didn't get upset when the other had other plans. It was the most stress-free relationship I've ever been in.
The only unfortunate thing was that neither of us told each other how we really felt about our being a couple-was this something we could carry on indefinitely or was it just a short-term relationship? I loved him for being Daniel, but I never told him that.
Because neither one of us had told the other that we had penciled each other into our future lives, I drifted away. That was that-one day we were together and the next we were apart. We never talked about it or argued over it. It was what it was and we both accepted that.
And then I fucked up-literally. With my 20/20 hindsight, I think I would have drifted back to him if I hadn't accidently gotten pregnant by the now-husband. He came to my wedding reception, and I hugged and kissed him for the last time. Less than a year later, he was engaged to someone he met after I had gotten married. I wonder if that was true love or just a rebound.
Now that my familiarity with my husband is breeding contempt, is Daniel's absence making my heart fonder for him? Can't turn back time-although right now, I wish I could. October 12 Life SoundtracksIf you could put a soundtrack to your life, what would you choose?
Here are a few that I would have on mine:
Romantic Symphony- Howard Hanson
The Planets- Gustav Holst
Peter and the Wolf- Sergei Prokofiev (I'm an oboe player-what do you expect?)
Venus and Mars (reprise)- Paul McCartney
This is the Day- the The
Water Music- Handel
Sewn- the Feeling
Come Home to the Sea- Mannheim Steamroller
Day By Day- Julian Lennon
Tainted Love- Soft Cell September 28 Summer VacationI lead such a pathetic life- here it is the end of September, and I've just gotten to take my summer vacation.
I'm not sure that sitting for eight hours a day and listening to lectures actually constitutes a vacation, but I am out of the stifling house, I'm sleeping in a very soft bed with down pillows and I haven't had to cook for the past week. I haven't got much sleep either, but this is beside the point.
Only one more day of the conference-and then life will go back to normal- work, work and tedious boredom.
To the state of Florida- you've got some mighty cute doctors, but does your SFU team always have to beat my beloved Mountaineers? August 19 Hospital PornThe bane of many hospital employees existance is the ACLS (Advanced Cardiac Life Saving) class. Every two years you have to retake the class to keep your certification current.
After the seventh or eighth time (in my case, the third or fourth time) you take the class, it becomes a kind of cerebral anesthetic. As I use ACLS all the time with my job, the classes can be agonizing. ( I just took the class! My two years can't be up already! Say it isn't so!) Thankfully (I guess), the experienced provider can update using a computer program, which is what I did last week.
It was an experience.
Part of the exam is proving that you can provide efficient chest compressions, and there is a CPR manequin (sp) attached to the computer.
So there I am, performing chest compressions on Chester (I'm calling it Chester as I can't remember how to spell manequin), and all you can hear in the room is a rhythmic thump-thump-thump. It reminds me of my noggin hitting the headboard......
If the thump-thump-thump wasn't enough, it turned out that Chester talked to me-giving me little tips to improve my performance. "Push harder!" Chester said. "Push faster!" "That's right!"
"Good!" "Push deeper!" I thought I was in a porno film-all I would have needed was the waan-waah boom chicka music playing in the background.
After passing my exam, I had the strangest urge to go out and smoke a cigarette...... August 08 Short Thought for the DayNever read Al Gore's "An Inconvenient Truth" during a heat wave. It's like reading Thomas Hardy to cheer yourself up after a suicide attempt. August 06 Things You Learn Too LateOwning pets and painting the basement should be mutally exclusive. I haven't decided which animal creates more havoc, the dog or the cat.
The dogs like to race around the house and try to slam into the ladder. The cats like to climb up the ladder and bat at the paint roller pan.
The dogs like to lie down in the spot where you want to place your ladder. The cats like to lie down in the spot where you want to place your feet.
A dog isn't happy unless he's thumping his tail against a freshly painted wall. The cat with the furriest feet likes to trod in the roller pan and leave bright yellow footprints on the bathroom vanity.
Close the basement door and the animals will practically knock the door down to get into the basement. It's a lose-lose situation. August 03 Journal MusingsOccasionally, I go back and read old journal entries. Sometimes, I find that I've written something almost semi-good.
From March 2006
There comes a time when we all must ask ourselves-who am I? And what happens when we don't know the answer to that question? What becomes of us then?
Do we float about in the limbo of the living, waiting for divine intervention- or do we play God and try to create something out of the dust that we are? And what if we have not the talent to create, to sculpt, to mold? Shall we forever be condemned to be a shapeless lump of clay?
Who am I? Who am I really?
All I know is that this is not it- I am not the person I want to be. I've been left no instruction manual, no blueprint- I'm making this up as I go along.
August 2007
Nothing's really changed. Still don't know how to get to where-to who- I want to be. I guess that's the beauty of this universe-some things never change. July 31 Observations on a Life with CatsThere are times when I feel like I'm living in a cathedral. I'll look up, and looming overhead is a cat staring at me from her perch. The only difference between my cats and gargoyles is that my cats occasionally blink.
My cats believe in a rigid time schedule. If the small cat is not fed within five minutes of my dragging myself out of bed, she will bite at my ankles until I feel compelled to feed her. Due to her razor sharp little teeth, I make feeding her my number one priority in the morning.
The more interesting the book, the more my cat feels the need to stretch out on my lap and be loved. With the large cat, loving her means your complete, undivided attention for as long as she deems necessary. As she is a large, extremely fluffy cat, she can completely obstruct a book as big as a church altar bible. Sometimes she lies down directly on the book, and takes it as a personal insult when she is removed from said book. The big cat will then take a page out of the small cat's manual and bite me on the ankle.
The cats believe that the dogs are annoyances who should be left outside for as long as possible. At least the cats and I agree on something.
The small cat and the psycho dog (do they make Prozac for dogs?) are alike in their mistaken delusion that all food in the house belongs to them. They have agreed on a division of labor-the psycho dog gets anything that comes close to the floor and the small cat gets whatever is on the countertop and stove. Needless to say, a ham sandwich is safe nowhere in my house.
The cats tend to nap in places that cannot be described as comfortable. As I am writing this, one cat is sleeping on top of the rolltop desk and the other is stretched out on the junk mail-littered dining room table. Other favorite napping places include a tiled window ledge, the seat of a wooden chair and a box full of mailing envelopes and packing tape. The dogs, however, prefer the couches and my bed. July 06 Augmentation UpdateIt's been over six months since I've had the surgery, and I am still glad I had it done. I've surprised several people when I tell them that I had surgery done. I think I look pretty much the same, only I don't have to wear a padded bra to get the same effect.
My plastic surgeon did such a great job. I can't even see my scars-and I know where to look. Hooray for board-certified plastic surgeons! June 27 Time FliesThey always say "time flies", but no one every told me the speed that it has. Einstein stated that nothing can move faster than the speed of light, but I think the year 2007 may become an exception.
I can't believe that it's nearly July! Last time I looked, it was April. All this time gone and about the only thing I can show for it is a pair of aching thighs courtesy of yoga class.
I hate looking back and realizing that I haven't really accomplished anything. Wasting my life away and having nothing to show for it- this getting older stuff sucks!
Should I concede to the passage of time and start "acting my age"? "Age with grace and dignity"? Be only "as old as you feel"?
Nah-I'm going to one of those "kicking and screaming" types. I'm not going to take this time passage thing lying down.
Okay, I guess I have to take a little of that back. I want time to skip ahead about three weeks. Like every other person in the literate world, I am anxiously anticipating reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hollows." I have lots of theories about this book, and I have to see if I'm right about any of them.
Jean Auel should take a page out of JK Rowlings' book. JKR knows how to finish out a series. I started reading "Clan of the Cavebear" when I was a freshman in high school and didn't want to pay attention to the geometry teacher. My 25th class reunion is just around the block and that woman STILL hasn't finished her Earth's Children series. Talk about procrastination...
I'll finish off this little blog with one of my favorite time related quotes-this was scribbled in the pages of my geometry notebook.
"Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana."  April 24 Out of Shape Blob in the Wheat FieldOne of the disadvantages to living in the middle of nowhere is the lack of "big city culture."
I may chat with the produce man and the guy who stocks the shelves with diet Pepsi at my local grocery store, but I can't get ahold of a pint of fresh black raspberries to save my soul.
All the librarians know me on sight, but I still have a major Amazon.com habit because I can't get certain books here.
I shop on-line as I'm too old to shop at the Buckle or Rue 21, but I'm not so old that I'll settle for what JC Penneys' and Wal-Mart think is appropriate for my age.
Only the senior citizens come to our symphony concerts because everyone under the age of fifty around here think that classical music is the spawn of the devil. (Besides, I know that country music is the true spawn.....)
When something semi-sophisticated comes to town, we tend to be overly excited about it, or think it's too "citified" for us 'country bumpkins.'
Case in point-we finally-finally-got a yoga studio in town. Real classes that you can drop in on whenever instead of a six-week class at 5:00 PM on Tuesdays once a year at the rec center. Rapture! Or should I say-rupture!
My experience with yoga has been the kind I've had to adopt because there were no yoga classes in town. I have lots of different yoga DVDs that I exercise to in the evenings, and some books (ordered from Amazon.com-of course) You might say I've been "home-schooled" in yoga.
One of the nice things about following a DVD instructor in the privacy of your own home is that you can pause it any time you need to-kids fighting, dogs and cats running amok in the house, overwhelming thirst. Another great thing is that the average DVD "class" is about 1/2 hour long-easy to fit into a day.
As soon as I heard about the new yoga studio, I immediately signed up for classes and showed up with my mat tucked under my arm for my first honest to goodness "real" yoga class.
As is typical of the overly average Midwest mindset- yoga is something to be suspicious of- it brings to mind a bunch of liberal lesbians who eat granola and don't wear deoderant. Needless to say- I was the only student in the class.
And then I discovered what a big fat out-of-shape lump I really am.
In short-yoga class kicked my ass.
I have discovered muscles that I didn't know existed. I didn't know it was possible to sweat so much and still be alive.
True, the class was 75 minutes long-three times what I'm used to, but I thought I was in better shape than I really am.
There's only one thing I can do about it-buck up and take another class. This time, I'll be better hydrated before I go. January 30 Ready for SpringHands up-who's ready for winter to be over?
Me! Me! Me! (pretend you can see me frantically waving my arms over my head)
I'm tired of the cold weather. Begone! (Wish that actually worked....)
Winter seems to last at least two months longer than my tolerance. I'm always cold, cold, cold. My husband claims the thermostat is set on 70 degrees, but I think he's lying to me. If it were truly 70 degrees in the house, why am I wearing long sleeved shirts AND a jacket while I'm watching TV? My fingers are always as blue as these words. My hands are dried, chapped, cracked, and bleeding-my hands make me look like I'm eighty years old. The only times I feel truly warm is when I'm in the scalding hot shower and when I wake up in the morning under my quilt, down comforter, thermal blanket AND flannel sheets.
The cold is made worse by the wind-the wind forces the cold into all the warm nooks and crannies of my clothes. Coats, scarves, mittens-it doesn't matter how I pile them all on, the cold creeps in and I spend most of the winter teetering on the edge of suspended animation.
I'm SO tired of being cold. (And yes, I did have my thyroid checked and it's just fine. Figures, I can't even blame my glands...) Now this doesn't mean I want it to be summer-I hate the heat almost as much as the cold. I would prefer spring and fall all year long. Unfortunately, neither season seems to stay around long enough for me to really enjoy them.
Gotta go-have to put some socks on my hands to thaw my fingertips. January 21 Drunk GirlsThis is one of those funny e-mails I got from a friend of mine-one that hit a little too close to home. I can't tell you how many of these apply to me.......
WHEN GIRLS DRINK TOO MUCH
1. We have absolutely no idea where our purse is
2. We believe that dancing with our arms overhead and wiggling our butt while yelling "Woo-hoo!" is truly the sexiest dance move around.
3. We've suddenly decided that we want to kick someone's ass and honestly believe we could do it too.
4. In our last trip to pee, we realize that we now look more like a homeless hooker than the goddess we were just four hours ago.
5. We start crying and telling everyohne we see that we love them sooooooo much.
6. We get extremely excited and jump up and down every time a new song played because "Oh my God! I love this song!"
7. We've found a deeper/spiritual side to the geek sitting next to us.
8. We've suddenly taken up smoking and become really good at it.
9. We yell at the bartender, who we believe cheated us by giving us just lemonade, but that's just because we can longer taste the gin.
10. We think we are in bed, but our pillow feels strangely like the kitchen floor.
11. We fail to notice that the toilet lid's down when we sit on it.
12. We take our shoes off because we believe it's their fault that we're having problems walking straight. January 11 Me and My i-PodAnother birthday has descended upon me. I'm now so solidly in my 40s that all I have to look forward to are more grey hairs, wrinkles, and diminished good attention from the cute members of the opposite sex. Every day I pray that I don't find an AARP magazine in my mailbox.
One good thing about birthdays-you get presents. This year, I got an i-Pod. I realize that I'm probably the only person in America who didn't have one already, but you're talking to a woman who doesn't have a camera on her cell phone.
At first, I was a bit discouraged-my cute Apple green i-Pod Nano didn't work. After a week of trying to restart, reinstall, and restore, I couldn't download a damn thing. The thing was as empty as my bra before my boob job. So with receipt in hand (and a low cut shirt to encourage the male salesman to make the exchange as painless as possible), I trooped off to Radio Shack for a replacement. Unfortunately, the only color they had left was silver, but I didn't care. I just wanted one that actually worked, and I didn't feel like waiting another month for a green one to come in.
I crossed my fingers and toes when I started it up, and lo and behold, it worked! Suddenly, I had 750 songs at my fingertips. ( I was a bit surprised that that was all I had in my music library-I thought I had much more.)
Since then, my i-Pod and I have become inseparable. I've become one of those people who wander through the grocery store or the library with teeny-tiny earphones in. It's like I have my own personal background music. What fun!
I've bought my i-Pod colorful "skins"- once again, I have a green i-Pod, as well as a white, black, blue and glow-in-the-dark ones. I can dress it up-my little techno-doll.
And then there's the gift my work friends gave me for my birthday- a great big bottle of Goldschlager. They know me so well.
Speaking of liquor- I have found two new ones I like. Being female, I tend to lean towards fruity, sweet drinks, unlike my male colleagues who think bitter is better. PAMA, a pomegranate liquor, is positively tasty when mixed with Sprite-like drinking a cranberry juice cocktail. (And the bottle itself is nice-I'm going to be saving it once I've emptied it.) The other is UV Orange vodka-mixed with Sprite, it tastes like Orange Crush-which makes it easy to get pleasantly smashed. (UV Blue mixed with lemonade is still my favorite though....)
My other present was a bottle of perfume that I was supposed to get for Christmas, but my husband kept forgetting to take it out of his car. Good thing my birthday isn't in June.
A special shout-out to all of you born in the Year of the Dragon like me. November 28 How Do I Become a Bond Girl?I mean it-I want to know-how do I become a Bond girl? (Okay, besides hopping in a time machine to make myself 20 years younger and hiring a plastic surgeon to redo everything?)
Yes, you've guess it. I've been to see "Casino Royale." And I want this new Bond to be "the spy who loved me."
Daniel Craig isn't handsome in the traditional sense, but there is something about him that makes me want to throw him down on the pool table and have my way with him. He reminds me of Harrison Ford-rugged and built like a dream.
Sorry- I realize that I'm drooling all over my keyboard just thinking about James Bond, but a girl's gotta have someone to fantasize about.
Daniel Craig-yum. November 13 Just Random StuffI got my stitches out the other day-everything is healing up nicely. No signs of infection-hooray. I still have to wear this damnable ace wrap at the top of my chest (to encourage the implants to settle down in the bottom of my breasts). The stupid thing itches like crazy and it is severely limiting my wardrobe. Before the surgery, I was really getting my act together, fashion-wise. Now I'm back to the old style-tee-shirts and jeans.
I think that's the thing that's frustrating me the most during my 8 weeks of nothing but sports bras 24/7- I have all these cute clothes in my drawers and hanging up in my closet, and I can't wear them because either the sports-bra or the ace wrap (they called it a "band bra") are exposed, and usually in a major way. I even have to be careful which t-shirts I wear because some of the necklines scoop too low. Thank goodness for my Happy Bunny t-shirts-they're the only thing getting me through these miserable fashion days.
(I've become quite a fan of Happy Bunny-he's delightfully snarky like me. My personal favorites are "Cute but evil", "Cruel but cute, so I'm worth it", and " I'm cute-let's put me in charge!")
Survived a disasterous orchestra concert. We had one piece that totally and utterly fell apart-think Titanic. And in a weird twist of fate, the local arts critic gave my playing a good review for that piece (although she sweetly shredded the piano soloist-she's the original Iron Fist in the Velvet Glove). This is the first time she's ever acknowledged my presence directly-and it's on a piece that I can't listen to without cringing. The universe is a weird, twisted place. (Only one piece went bad on us, though. The others went off quite smashingly, and I didn't screw up the one solo line I kept blowing in rehearsal. I only played in 2 of the pieces, and the Titanic piece was the first one-talk about sinking your confidence level.....)
My cat has become this huge ball of fur that attacks people for no apparent reason and crashes spectacularly off the furniture. I think I'm feeding her too much...... She has officially joined the "jealousy" ring. This morning, I was petting my dog and Chloe tried to manuever my hand off him. Silly cat.... November 07 The Recovery PhaseI am officially in the recovery phase. I get my stitches out in three days and hopefully, I'll get rid of this stupid elastic breast band too.
I have been a model patient, if I do say so myself, especially when you consider that I'm a health care professional, and everyone will attest that we make THE worst patients. I've been taking my antibiotics on schedule, and for me, this is an accomplishment. I'm on Keflex 4 times a day- I have enough problems trying to remember to take a once-a-day vitamin. I haven't had to take much of my pain medication because I really haven't been in that much pain. Normally, for this kind of pain, I would pop a few motrins and all would be well, but I'm not allowed to take motrin for another month! The pain's not enough to waste a Percocet on, and since I'm not convinced that Tylenol's a great pain medication, I would rather go without anything than to waste my time taking Tylenol.
The thing that's creeping me out the most is the little air-pockets under my skin. They feel weird to touch and I can feel the bubbles moving around when I'm using my arms.
I'm having trouble shaving my armpits because there is all this boob in my way-the surgery has definitely changed the "lay of the land".
My kids keep suddenly stopping in front of me, and I've banged their heads with my boobs more times than I care to count. I thought for sure I'd pop a boob when one of the dogs jumped on me, but it looks like it's going to be my kids who are going to send me back to the operating room.
An implant friend of mine told me that I only have 4 more months before I can sleep on my side again-whoo-hoo. This sleeping on my back thing is not for me-I am not a back sleeper. I'm used to sleeping on my belly with my arms curled under me (the husband anti-groping position) I suppose it wouldn't be too bad if we had a decent recliner. My friend who I stayed with after my surgery has this great recliner that I slept in without any problems. This recliner we have is part of a sectional couch and it's not long enough-my feet dangle if I'm lying perfectly flat. Oh well. Such is life.
I'll keep y'all updated.
And a shout out to my favorite college football team-the West Virginia Mountaineers. Don't let the loss to Louisville discourage you. Remember, you are the Beast of the East. November 04 Mission AccomplishedIt's official- I have implants.
I had to get to the surgical center at the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM-I was first on the schedule. I signed in, was given a pair of fuzzy slipper-socks and two surgical gowns. They had lockers I could stash my stuff in-I liked that. They allowed my friend to come back to the pre-op area with me, and we chatted the whole time while the nurses were doing their thing-vital signs, starting my IV, giving me drugs.
Then my surgeon came in and whipped out a huge permanent black marker and started doodling on my chest. (Okay, the lines had purposes, but I felt like I was a train car with graffitti painted on it.) After the sketching was done, the nurse put a scopolamine patch behind my ear to help prevent nausea when I woke up from the surgery (I tend to puke after general anesthesia), and then she gave me some Versed (to relax me and it also causes amnesia) and some Demerol (pain medication) My friend said that my eyes glazed over and that I waved to her and said "Thank you for coming!" and away I went to the OR. Luckily, they took me to OR before I started babbling all my deep dark secrets.
I woke up in the recovery room while the nurse was taking my blood pressure. I had foot pumps on my feet-they would gently squeeze my feet while I was lying there in bed. Unfortunately, they were the first things to go when I woke up. Bye-bye foot massage.
Thank goodness there were no video cameras in the recovery room-watching me trying to hook a bra while being half-stoned would have been very amusing. The bra was a monsterous thing-they told me to bring a bra one to two sizes larger than I was planning to go. I wanted to be a 34 or 36 C-what I used to be- so I brought along what I thought was a truly humongous bra-a 38 D. Just seeing it by itself frightened me a little. Bras shouldn't be that big.
I filled the thing up-I couldn't believe it. I realize there is some component of swelling, but I still wasn't expecting to fill out a 38 D bra.
The bra had about a thousand little hooks and eyes, and there I was, still a bit swirly from the anesthesia and the Demerol , trying to get the monster bra on. It must have taken me five minutes to do it. They topped off the bra with a large elastic band across the top of my breasts-it's supposed to put just enough pressure on the breasts to keep the implants down.
The operation was not as bad as I thought it was going to be. My chest aches, but I can't say it's really painful. The only time I come remotely close to pain is when I'm trying to get my clothes over my head. The thing that's giving me the most problems is the elastic band. The stupid thing itches like crazy-I'm afraid I'm going to scratch my new boobs off.
I have cleavage-I still can't get over it. I actually have cleavage.
I've run into some unexpected obstacles. My seat belt fits differently. I'm knocking over glasses with my tits. I'm running into doors-I can't take sharp corners without hitting my chest against something. So this is how the Playboy Bunny crowd lives.
All in all, I am very happy how things have turned out. I like the way I look, and I can't wait until my 6 weeks of sports bra wearing is up so I can go braless for the first time since puberty. October 31 The Countdown Continues48 hours until surgery-I still can't believe that I'm actually going to go through with this.
There's something about implant surgery that makes other people think they have the right to touch you. It's like when I was pregnant and complete strangers would come up and touch my stomach. If I could have reached them over my huge stomach, I would have decked them. I don't go around randomly touching other people's body parts. (Oh, all right, I'll admit to grabbing a guy's butt occasionally when I'm trying to get him to miss a pool shot, but that's another set of girl rules.)
Yesterday I was out with a bunch of friends-one of them had just turned 30, so we were out for a good time. I was completely sober-I had to drive-and my friends were pleasantly intoxicated, and we were playing pool. The girls and I were discussing my upcoming surgery-it's common knowledge. One of the guys, out of the blue, grabbed one of my boobs and said he wanted to get a presurgery feel so he could compare later. I was so shocked that I couldn't even slap him. Out of all the guys there, he was the one I had pegged as least likely to cop a feel. I regained my composure and then asked if I could have a free feel on his crotch. He said to go ahead, I wouldn't find much there. I smiled and said, "Oh, that's right. At least I can get surgery to correct my short-comings." And then I promptly hid behind another guy friend who I knew would defend me. (Typical stereotypical helpless girl move....a bit beneath me, true, but I didn't have any alcohol on board to boost my bravado.)
My girlfriends who have had implant surgery have told me about everyone wanting to see their boobs, touch them, after they got the surgery. It was like they were public property, an open invitation. That's the part I'm not looking forward to-yes, I'm getting the surgery, but I'm not doing it so that someone will touch my breasts. I don't intend on letting people feel them after I'm all healed up. I might compare scars with the other gals, but that's about it. These implants are to make me feel better about myself, to make me happier with the way I look, not as a way to catch a guy's attention.
Guess I'm going to get attention, whether I want it or not. Let's hope my left hook is up to the challenge. |
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