Full disclosure: I have had cosmetic surgery on my breasts.
When I asked my surgeon how big I was, he said: ‘When I take a normal D cup down to a C, I remove half a pound of flesh from each breast. On you, I took a pound and a half off each one.’
There were days when I couldn’t pull myself upright because my back was so sore, mostly because I had spent the weekend playing ball and further stressing my back.
It made sense, my surgeon told me, because every pound of flesh on a woman’s chest creates 15 pounds per square inch of pressure on her lower back. Physics, fulcrum points and all that yada yada.
Yep, I went under the knife. For my physical health and, yes, for my self-esteem, too.
Because you see, when you’re that well-breasted, that’s all people see. I was even tagged with a nickname ‘Juggs’ for a while, thanks to that one line, ‘look at the jugs on her,’ in Slap Shot.
And 10 years later, I want another one. They’ve grown back, just as my surgeon said they would. My breasts are full of healthy tissue, instead of the fat layers many women are cursed with.
Or maybe I’m a starfish.
In any case, I’m back to that stage where shirts don’t close properly. Bras have to be expensive and purchased somewhere other than La Senza. I can be wearing a turtleneck and you’ll still see cleavage.
So I get to look at it from the other side of the coin and I wonder why some women are envious of my curvy, over-laden top, when I long for the perky B cups I had when I was 14.
And I wonder why they would intentionally subject themselves to this life.
But we all have our insecurities, right? We all have our body issues. My hair is too straight/curly, my stomach isn’t flat enough, my boobs are too small/big, my skin is too pale, my nose is too … well, you get the picture.
That’s why Amp Calgary’s latest marketing campaign makes me cringe.
Have the Breast Summer Ever and win a $10,000 breast augmentation. You have to tell Amp Calgary why you want a boob job and then subject yourself to an online voting contest.
Great. Beg for it and then have the drooling frat boys of the world click on a Facebook picture to garner you votes.
It combines — and plays off — two of our most infamous quirks in the internet age: insecurities and attention whoring.
Makes you feel all warm and fuzzy, doesn’t it?
Frankly, I’m guilty of both. But if it’s all the same to you, if I need to deal with the former, I won’t use the latter to get it.
And to make a contest out of it?
That’s just revolting.