Breast Obsessed

As a teenager I was very much looking forward to becoming a grown-up. I saw the glamour of Hollywood and I wanted to be a part of it. I waited (not-so-patiently) for my body to catch up to my mind. I was moderately tall, thin and athletic, but not at all curvaceous like my girlfriends. They were significantly more developed than I was, and they also seemed to get more attention from the boys.

I wanted so desperately to be looked at the way the other girls were; to be considered beautiful, sexy even. The feelings inside of me did not match the reflection looking back at me in the mirror. My tall, thin figure made me feel like a boy, and so I assumed I was unattractive, and that nobody would want me. I went through most of high school without going on any dates or having a real boyfriend. This only fueled my ugly duckling syndrome.

The ugly duckling went through his childhood being told how ugly he was, but when he grew up he turned into this beautiful swan. His self esteem had been shattered in his youth. I identified with this story because I felt so much rejection, even if some if it was in my head. I waited and waited for my body to become a woman's body with all those beautiful curves. I waited and waited to FEEL like a woman.

When I was 21 I became a go-go dancer at the sports bar, but my body hadn’t changed. I wore miracle bras to pretend I had something resembling breasts, but in truth I was an A-cup and had absolutely no cleavage (even in the maximum push-up bras). The girls I worked with were all implanted – at least 80% of them were. If they didn’t have implants, they had naturally full breasts that were beautiful on their own. I became obsessed with breasts. 

I was making less money than the other girls (the ones with the implants made triple what I was bringing in), yet the men all said things like, “No, don’t get implants. You’re fine just the way you are.” But their actions told me different. I had gone on a few auditions for modeling and acting jobs, but felt like giving up because I was always told that I wasn’t right, or special, or that I just didn’t have the right figure. It seemed that everything about my life was pointing to one solution – bigger boobs! 

I spent more than a year researching the surgery, meeting with several different doctors, and played 20-Questions with every implanted woman I met. I fondled and squeezed more breasts than I can count! I needed to know exactly what type looked and felt the best, and which option would allow me to eventually breastfeed (that was essential). At the advice of the surgeon, I went bra shopping and took baggies of rice filled to different capacities with me. I picked the bra size I desired and then figured out which baggie had the perfect amount of rice in it to fill the cups. I had no desire to have huge implants. I simply wanted to fill out to a proportionate size for my height. I chose a B cup, and filled it to completely full.

I finally decided to have textured saline implanted over-the-muscle. The surgeon I chose was a reconstructive surgeon who had been the head of reconstructive surgery at Kaiser Permanente before opening his own practice. Although the implants eventually made me ill, I believe that this wonderful surgeon unknowingly saved my life.

To be continued...

Although the events in the book are personal, this isn't my story; it's our story. We've all been there: shamefully sucking-in our tummies to impress others, or using our sexuality to advance our careers because our intelligence or talent come second. Chapters from the book will be released in no chronological order, organically pouring out of me as emotions and memories resurface. Thank you for being here. —Kristen