The "What's It Like?" Chronicles: Boob Job Edition

before: so much early '00s & after: '10, probs the last time I wore a bra

I don't think I've ever mentioned here that I have fake boobs. I mean, I also have real boobs, but underneath those are fake bag ones. It definitely hasn't been an intentional omission, you know that I'm weirdly transparent about my life. Maybe even too transparent, like Crystal Pepsi. I've just had these ol' puppies for ten years, and I don't ever think about them. I also don't ever wear boob-showy stuff anymore, so much so that I had to dig back four years for this current-ish boob picture.

But this is a blog about me sharing my experiences about beauty-related shit, and this happened in my life and is semi-beauty-ish, so we might as well talk about it. Especially since I have already done a post about what it's like to get Botox. I'm just going to keep chugging along on this cosmetic alterations train. Choo mf-ing choo.

If you don't have two effs to rub together about boobs, or boob-related surgeries, feel completely free to skip all of this hootenany. (Boobenany?)

When people find out I've had a boob job, I usually get my fair share of questions and curiosities, so I've compiled a few of the regular ones. If you have weirder ones, feel free to ask.

Why did you get them? I've always had my fair share of body issues. I can literally remember the minute they started. I was a Freshman in high school, shopping at 5-7-9 with my mom for a Homecoming dress. I put the first one on: a lace, spaghetti-strapped, long, tight navy dress. It was the first time I had ever noticed that I had recently developed hips. And saddle bags. I told my mom that I wasn't coming out of the dressing room because I was fat. She said something to the effect of, "This is what an adult body looks like, so you better get used to it." And I responded with something along the lines of, "Well, I don't like it."

Fast-forward to almost ten years later, and I've decided that having bigger boobs will "even me out" and take care of all of my lower body worries. So, I did it, without very much thought. (Now you see why I have a butterfly tramp stamp. This is how I make major life decisions.)

Did that work? Please. Absolutely not.

Does it hurt? Kind of, for a few days. And it feels weird as shit when you're getting used to having implants. There's a foreign object under your chest muscle, so the first time you do stuff like vacuum or drive IT FEELS CRAZY.

What do they feel like when you touch them? Straight up round ziploc baggies under a boob. I have felt friends' silicone implants (I have saline, which is just salt water), and those feel less ziploc-y.
   
How's life different afterward? Here are a few things that will change, for sure:

• You will never enjoy sleeping on your stomach in the same way again. You can still do it, but it's never, ever the same.
• Bras just fit weird. Either your nipples hang out, or you have a gap between your skin and the cup. True life.
• People will ask you a lot of questions about your boobs. I clearly don't mind, but shy people, be aware.
• You'll have to replace them every 10-ish years. It's past that time for me, but I probably won't swap mine out unless I have problems or it becomes totally necessary. I just don't care enough what they look like anymore. They're saggier now, but what am I, a boob model? (No, I am not.)
• You might have second (and third and fourth) thoughts on your decision. It's not the early 00's anymore, and fake boobs aren't as popular as they were back in my young buck days. Plus, it didn't make me feel any better about myself, like I anticipated. I've thought about getting my implants taken out, but that's just SO MUCH work. And I'm sure I still wouldn't be happy. And I do enjoy not being married to wearing a bra.

 

Here's the bottom line: I really wish that I had just been okay with myself enough to not even worry about having plastic surgery in my early twenties. (I know, I know -- what a trite and annoying way to end this.) But seriously, everyone should just enjoy what they've got and work that shit. This is your damn time. On the other hand, it's your body, so just do what you want with it. If you want surgery, modifications, whatever the hell your deal is, that's cool too. Do you, baby.

Okay, I'm so over talking about myself that I can't even stand it one for second. Can we just talk about Justin Bieber? Or at least someone else's boobs?






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The "What's It Like?" Chronicles: Botox Edition

Listen, I know that (ideally) I should be all, "Everyone be natural! Don't wear makeup or get cosmetic surgery! That's all for the birds!" (What the eff does that mean, anyway?) But that ain't me, babe. No, no, no. It ain't me, babe. (Sorry, just a little Johnny Cash break.)

I LIKE to have fake stuff. I know, it's not the best attitude to have. And I wish I wasn't this way! I'm horrible; what can I say? I've had plastic surgery (more on that another time), I like to use crap like Latisse and wear fake eyelashes, and fake hair...And I've had Botox. Twice!

Could have used a needle poke, non?

You see, my 'regular face' kind of looks like a 'b face' and I scowl a lot. I'm a real peach, obvs. And I have to say, that I really liked not having wrinkles in my forehead. Is it vain? Yes. But, whatevs. It is what it is. (I'm dying to get more, BTW.)

So what's it like to get your face stuck with needles full of paralyzing fluids??? It ain't that bad, b's! Here's the realness:

• It doesn't really hurt, not badly, anyway. It's just a little stick, not nearly as bad as getting a shot. The weirdest part is when the needle goes through your skin, it makes a 'crunching' sound. I'm not a scientist, I don't know why. It's creepy.
• It doesn't work immediately; it takes a day or two to really take effect.
• You don't get as many headaches for some reason. (Can you tell I really am up on my facts??? Sigh. I am perhaps THE worst.)
• It lasts about three months or so. 

I won't pretend like it's all kittens pooping Skittle rainbows. I have seen some people looking jacked up from Botox mess ups. Droopy eyes, frozen faces, the whole deal. So do proceed with caution, and pick a good and trustworthy doc if this is the frown-less road on which you would like to proceed.

And to all of the women out there that don't give two effs about getting wrinkles and ish, I have mad, mad respect for you. I wish I liked myself as much, trust! But until then, I'm trying to get my face to look permanently like this:

Minus those eye bags, of course. Come on, girl. Get that ish tight.


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