The day of explant surgery

img_3075-jpgThis is where I will start my story. This was me on Monday evening (1/16), nauseous and drugged. That morning I had my breast implants removed. There were several things that led me to this decision. When I had them put in four years ago, I wasn’t even wanting “more”… just a bit less tribal perhaps. πŸ˜‚ But I was convinced that this was the best option, and unfortunately, I trusted that guidance. Immediately after the procedure, I began feeling very off and unwell. I even went back to the surgeon to discuss the possibility that my implants may be the source of the problem. He quickly dismissed my concerns and led me to believe I was mistaken and perhaps depressed. πŸ™„ Fast forward 4 years and many mysterious and unexplainable symptoms later, and I finally decided to dig deeper and do more research. I’m super thankful that a friend with a similar experience spoke out and enlightened me about all she had learned through her own similar situation. What I found while doing more research was shocking and alarming and I finally decided…”screw this”…I’m done. The second piece of this story is that I’ve recently begun to question the true meaning of beauty. The cultural pressure to stay young and forever fill yourself with fake shit leaves me exhausted and sad. How much plumping and injecting and filling is enough? Why is that attractive? It’s not. These questions plague me in a new way now that my daughter is quickly approaching her teenage years. I decided that the message I send her about her worth is so much more important than anything else. She looks to me for guidance and I don’t want to fail her here…or teach her that she has to succumb to this ridiculous notion of physical perfection. I have zero judgement about what anyone else decides to do to feel good about themselves and I’m still stumbling through the process of working out what’s right for me. But this decision was one of the easiest I’ve made. I’m working on embracing myself as I am. At least for now.

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