The pain relief was immediate. I woke up from surgery, and even though my nipples were on fire, I couldn’t sense the nerve where my shoulder connects to my neck. I’ve known that joint by heart for years now. I had reached the point where I thought it didn’t hurt when I simply knew where the junction was, as opposed to feeling pain radiate outward from it. Even the chest fire was mild by comparison, the sort of pain I used to associate with nursing, intense cold, and drastic hormone shifts.
But, as with any surgery, breast reduction came with a few unexpected complications, the largest of these involving physical sensations.… Read the rest
In thirty seven years, I’ve never been summoned for jury duty. My number was due to come up, and it did, in the federal system. I knew dates when I scheduled my breast reduction surgery, and the doctor’s office thought I’d be fine to go sit around in a courtroom five days after having my chest sliced to ribbons.… Read the rest
They get to hulk around on my chest, making running and any other bouncy activities impossible. At one point, I tried strapping myself in with an ace bandage. It worked loose. I spent the rest of that jog in the traditional cross-armed clutch known by large breasted women the world over as the “Jesus, these fucking things cancel breathing every time they jounce” run.
They get to humiliate me in public.… Read the rest