So I picked out my boobs this morning.

I met with my plastic surgeon to discuss ‘where we are’ in terms of filling the expanders. Started with the bra test where I tried on one of my pre-cancer bras to see how we were tracking in terms of where I started. Oddly, it fit perfectly, which was surprising to me. They seem like such different animals, but in a bra, they looked pretty dang normal.

The plastic surgeon was clearly impressed with his own work. This is a great sign.  He said my breasts look, ‘90% better than most women with expanders.’ YAAASSS QWEEN!!!

We decided as a team, (me, the surgeon and my mom- who better to help judge your rack size than your mom, AMIRIGHT?), that there was no need for further expansion outside of a tiny bit on one side to even out a ‘dent.’ He actually said dent. Oy.

My breasts are now ready for take off. And by ‘take off,’ I mean, another surgery to replace the clunky expanders with squishy implants. Surgeon said the recovery from this surgery is 1/3 as difficult as the mastectomy. I will take those odds.

I would also like to note that the surgeon referred to something else we would do that I only remember as, ‘for shits and giggles.’ I probably should have paid more attention to what he was talking about. Hmmmm…

He once again showed me my options for implants. The regular silicone implant you have all seen on creepy plastic surgery reality tv shows, and the weighted implants that are meant to appear more ‘tear-drop’ shaped. The risk of the weighted one is having it flip, which would create a very odd breasticle situation.  I am going old-school silicone.

Since I am a vain monster, I proceeded to ask a multitude of mildly inappropriate questions about a little extra sumpin sumpin here and there. He basically rolled his eyes and told me to zip it. I don’t understand why I shouldn’t be wheeling and dealing to get the absolute most out of this craptastic situation. I love a good negotiation.

So now we have a date and a plan for reconstruction. I am very excited to trade these clunk-bags in for some sparkly (what if I could get SEQUIN IMPLANTS?) new breasts. The idea of actually sleeping comfortably on my side or stomach is an absolute dream.