I thought I was done blogging about my breast reduction surgery, but yesterday I went to see my surgeon for the last time for a normal follow-up appointment. His parting questions made me pause….
“Do you want your pictures?” Asks Dr. Breast.
“What pictures?” I say rather stupidly.
“Your before and after. A lot of women like to have them.” States Dr. Breast.
“Oh, okay, but I won’t look at them, just store them away in case I ever need them.” I tell him (Like he cares, he isn’t a shrink!)
I found myself waiting in the waiting room for my nude pictures. The nurse hands them to me in a manilla envelope. Hmmm. I must mark these so no-one opens them. Then I put them in the car with me and went on to do my million errands I find myself doing when I am in the vicinity of a Target (side note: The nearest Target is an hour away from us….it’s horrible I know.).
Once I got home I decided to put the envelope on the bottom of one of my dresser drawers. Of course my mind quickly goes to things like If I die, whoever goes through my drawers will open these and Maybe my after pictures are really hot and I want to see them.
So I looked. BIG MISTAKE What an eye-opening and thoughtful experience.
Before I tell you more I must clue you in on what the photography session is like. There is no empowering mood music. You are not warned before hand to wear something non-muffin-toppy. The doctor taking the pix purposefully cuts your head out of the picture and you are up against a boring blue or brown backdrop. awkward! Do I smile? Do I talk? Do I close my eyes and hope to die right then and there….I did the third option.
The in-office printer photos are cold and lifeless, just like the look of my pale and nasty skin in my before pictures. The after pictures look straight from a morgue with suture lines as bright as the burning coals of a fire. Not good for my self-esteem.
I mentioned this to my mom and she went off on a rant about how she she first saw me with my bandages off she wanted to scream “What did you do to my daughter!?”. She then went on to say how I looked like Frankenstein and then agreed that my wounds had a morgue-esk look to them. Wow mom. Thanks for lying to me at the time, as I couldn’t have handled your truths!
My scars are slowly fading, I am so happy I had the surgery and feel so much better. I wasn’t a nude model before and I won’t be after, so whats a few scars for the sake of my health right? Needless to say I have warnings on the manilla envelope now with strict instructions that they are to be destroyed if I leave this earth pre-maturely. I am keeping them for medical records only, as my surgeon is moving to Illinois so I thought I should keep them close. Not the nude pictures one would expect a wife to keep in her drawers!
