Within the first 30 minutes after we arrive in the San Diego airport she gave me the best ab workout ever. And all she had to do was tell me a story.

Her story came after she heard about me standing up on the airplane. That alone isn’t so exciting. However when my strapless sundress didn’t stand up with me, it became an exciting event. And by exciting, I mean mortifying. Yep, my dress slid down on my body as I got up to use the lavatory. Oh joy. I was embarrassed and didn’t bother looking up at anyone for fear that they were laughing, scowling or turned on.

Really, if I”m going to pull down my dress and give a peep show, I want it to be on my terms. Not on a wardrobe failure.

My humiliation reminded Suz of a story.

She was in Santa Barbara at a fancy hotel. She raced down to the pool wearing a sundress and a string bikini. That’s how she rolls. And not rolls as in fat. The girl is tiny.

I should explain her tiny frame. She’s thin. And completely flat chested. It looks good on her though. I’m guilt free from talking about her tiny boobs because I offered her my spare set and she refused.

Back to the pool. It was a hotel pool and there we other people there. Specifically two guys near Suz any many other people scattered around.

Suz is next to her lounge chair and pulls her sundress over her head. And you probably guessed it. Her string bikini top came loose and fell to her waist. Suz isn’t very modest. That didn’t bother her so much.

What did bother her? The two guys who were watching her. Why? Because of their response. They glanced up, saw the show and went back to whatever they were doing before. Without a smile, rise in their pants, or laugh. Suz concluded that they were either gay or thought she was a little boy.

Moral here: When we take off our top, we want a response. Positive always feels better. But something. Anything. Except for maybe a dollar bill. Or worse, a quarter.

 I eagerly opened the bag and tore off the tissue paper. This is what I discovered…

Turns out someone I work with brought me a gift all the way from Hawaii. This person knew of my coconut obsession which would explain the gift. However I wonder if they were aware of my other obsession…boobs. Well not any boobs. Just mine.

Would it be rude to ask for bigger coconuts and a grass skirt? The sexy coconut device is better suited for a B/C cup plus I’ll need a grass skirt to make the outfit complete. Or better yet, I won’t risk being rude and I’ll use them as two giant pina colada cups. Umbrella straws anyone?

My doctor tapes boobs.

I’ve been walking around for two weeks feeling like a paper-mâché art project.  The tape is holding my newly molded boobs so they are guaranteed to stay perky and in place while I heal.  The tape is wrapped over each boob leaving the nipples bare. It also goes up to my neck.  Try getting dressed with that restriction. Oh yeah, and it’s thick off-white tape. Black would have been so much better.

Showering is an entertaining activity. I was told to wrap myself in plastic wrap to keep the tape dry. Have you ever tried that? It’s hard enough covering a casserole dish, let alone my mid section.

A ton of money was spent on these boobs.  And I haven’t been able to see them yet. That’s like buying a new car and not driving it for two weeks. That doesn’t work for me. I’m impatient like that. The tape comes off on Wednesday.  I can’t wait to see/touch/dress my new body parts.

Taped Boob

If you’re not in the latter two categories and you decide you’re gonna upgrade yours, you’ll probably do a lot of research on the net. Read the forums about breast augmentation, peoples experiences, maybe even welcome the opportunity to watch some porn in the name of research.  

Then you’ll get a kick-ass surgeon and scrape together your savings in the name of perfect D-cups and a nice two hour nap. After waking up from your nap your first question is whether they caught the truck that hit your chest. But you’ll get over that quickly, forgive the truck driver and then have the nurse send him a thank-you note for solving your never ending “what bra should I wear today” dilemma. 

But – conspiracy theorists take note – there’s something nobody told you. No woman that went through it ever mentioned it. Collective amnesia. You did not only get a nice new rack, they also gave each boob their own personal catheter. 

Yup, that’s right. You’ve got clear plastic tubes coming out of your new girls, along with two clear plastic bottles. And then you realize you traded your bra problem for a bigger, “How am I ever going to find clothes that hide those bottles” problem. You knew you couldn’t lift stuff for a few weeks, to make sure your muscles don’t move your new additions into the wrong place, but you only took a long weekend ’cause you were supposed to be fine going to work after. 

If you think I’m exaggerating picture hiding this under your clothes:

Boob Tubes

The good news is, if you actually listen to your doctor, and drain your tubes frequently, and don’t do any strenuous activity, they will take out your tubes pretty soon, at which point you can worry about the fun things like what new bras to get. I’m talking from experience here, listen to your doctor.

First time around I took my girls out for a few test drives way too soon, and I was stuck with the tubes for a week and a half. This time, I smartened up and after my post op visit today with a very excited and happy doctor they removed them. And by removed them I mean pulled a really long plastic tube out from inside my breasts. An experience like no other. 

Oh, and if I you don’t hear from me again after this post, it’s probably because the conspiracy theorists were right and I spilled the beans on the big boob tube secret.

PS: Despite rumors to the contrary, I did NOT go to work as pictured above, but managed to find just the right boob-tube cover-up (which is not featured in the photo).