What a Boob-oo!
Okay girls who’s prepared to admit that once we get to a certain age our worst enemy is gravity. We can clench our buttocks, thrust our pelvis, sit up, push up, work the abs to try and fight it, but once it all starts going south it’s a losing battle. I swear that my bum is an inch lower than it once was and if it keeps going at this rate will end up sitting somewhere in the region of the backs of my knees.
Dressed we can look like a million dollars, undressed in the sexy lingerie we can still look like a million dollars but, if you intend entering into the dating game with full enthusiasm, there comes a time when the kit has to come off. You can fight to keep on the Elle McPherson bra or the basque arguing that it feels more sexy that way but if you have a lapse in concentration you might just lose the battle. Of course if the bedroom partner is someone older they’re probably visually impaired anyway and so grateful to you that they may not notice the imperfections but this is tbw dating I’m talking about!
My problem has been a quite drastic weight loss over the past couple of years. It feels fantastic to be back to Size 8 but oh boy where has the elasticity in my skin gone. I do tend to be severely critical of my own body but during a close inspection one evening decided that the boobs, once so pert, now resembled something that you’ve left in the bottom of the ironing basket for so long not even putting the iron on full steam could ever get rid of the creases.
I began my quest for firmer skin with Bio oil but after a couple of weeks decided there wasn’t enough Bio oil in the world, never mind my local branch of Boots, to make enough of a difference. I then sought the opinion of my girlfriends. I don’t make a habit of getting my tits out for the girls but felt I needed a second opinion and knew they would be honest. Just a little too honest; when my best friend put on her glasses to make a close inspection, looked at my boobs and said ‘urgh’ I knew I had to take them in hand, my boobs not my girlfriends that is.
So, it had to be a boob lift or nothing and the nothing just wasn’t an option. I made an appointment at one of the many clinics that advertise the procedure but was less than impressed there to be kept waiting an hour past my appointment time and when I finally did have my consultation, to have it interrupted by the girl continually taking personal phone calls. She finally concentrated on me and, after looking through her list said she had selected the right person to do the job but, although he was very good, he did have a rather abrupt manner and sometimes upset his patients. Okay so I’m going to pay a large amount of money to have someone be rude to me. I think not.
Taking the advice of a friend I contacted a local private hospital, was given the name of one of their surgeons and from then on it was plain sailing all the way. This man is wonderful; during my first appointment he explained what he could do and described it as ‘containing the contents in a smaller packet’. What a brilliant way of putting it. No need for implants which was great, I had no wish to increase the size from my modest 34B, I like to be able to see my feet when I look down.
The procedure went smoothly. I did think it rather bizarre standing in nothing but a pair of white hospital knickers having a renowned plastic surgeon take ‘before’ photos of the boobs but it’s not a problem so long as those photos never see the light of day. It would be very depressing if they were ever released on something like a SAGA porn site, if there is such a thing. Once back in my room after the op’ I couldn’t wait to see the results. OMG, even in my groggy post anaesthetic haze I was so excited. Not only had they lifted considerably, they were firm again. Probably firmer than they have been since before I had my children. I had to wait until a nurse came to help me take off the support bra to shower to see them properly. (You do have to wear a support bra day and night for a few weeks after the op but they say patience is a virtue and I was very virtuous for as long as I could possibly be.) Once I’d seen the full results I couldn’t believe it. I was so in love with those babies, I could have rushed through the hospital to find the surgeon just to give him a big hug to say thank you.
Seven weeks on, the scarring is fading fast and Pinky and Perky, as one of my friends has named them are looking better every day and have been much admired, by all the girls I hasten to add. Well, okay maybe not just the girls but that’s another story.
I would recommend the boob lift to anyone who, like me has decided drastic action is needed to halt the march of time and I'[m happy to give the surgeon’s number to anyone who’s interested. Now,what was I saying about my dropping bum?
(Photos on request)
By Trish
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