I can’t remember ever having a small chest. It was as if one day I was prepubescent, and the next I was a 34 DD (that’s big, for folks who don’t know sizing). In fifth grade. It wasn’t ideal.

I fielded inappropriate comments from classmates, from teachers, and from random men, for years. As I aged, and as I grew, I took to binding myself, to buying minimizer bras, and to wearing baggy clothing to try to hide the shape of my body. 

I hated exercising. It hurt. I hated running. However running was what my friend group gravitated towards, signing up for races around the country. I bought sports bras from Germany, virtual steel traps. I ran, so thankful for crossing the finish line, when I wouldn’t be bouncing anymore. 

I went through menopause. I gained weight. My boobs became even bigger. I wore a 36K bra size, which had to be special ordered. No stores carried that size. My shoulders ached. My neck ached. My back ached. I engaged in physical therapy for almost two years to try to alleviate the pain. I lost over 50 pounds. And none of that weight came from my boobs. 

I despaired. I didn’t want to be in constant pain. I didn’t want to hate pictures I saw of myself. 

I don’t even remember how it came up, but one day, in a conversation with my neighbor, she mentioned she had had breast reduction surgery and it was the best decision she’d ever made. She showed me before and after pictures, and talked about how she was no longer in pain. 

I reached out to her doctor for a consultation. He’s popular. I waited almost 4 months to be seen. He said, yes, I was an ideal candidate for breast reduction. I petitioned my insurance company. Again and again. A date was set for surgery. I told the doctor to remove as much as he possibly could. He asked ideally what size would I like to be. I told him a B cup. He sighed, and said he didn’t think that was safely possible. But he’d do the best he could. 

The morning of the surgery, I reminded him that I wanted to be as small as possible. He acknowledged my request and said he’d see what he could do. 

The last thing I remember was laughing with my sister, then being rolled into the operating room. And then I was being woken up, in the recovery area, three hours later. The nurse helped me dress – surgical bra, button up shirt, pants. As I stepped off the table, as groggy and medicated as I was, I felt such relief. I could stand up straight. I could hold my shoulders back without effort. 

I’m not as small as I’d hoped I’d be. But I feel balanced. I feel comfortable in my body. And there’s no more back, neck, or shoulder pain. It’s an amazing feeling.