The excruciating pain, injections and drips (literally my worst nightmare), the anesthetic going through my veins coupled with a ton of severe bruising. Above all else, the aftermath of having to carry a drip around for 72 long hours as well as not being fully mobile for ten stretched out days as I waited patiently to recover. I couldn’t help but question myself, “Will they notice? Can I lie about it if they do? How will people react to this insane reveal?”
You’re probably thinking, “What the hell are you going on about Taryn?”. I was so reluctant to publish this blog post, but then I thought what the heck. I generally don’t care much about what people think about me and I enjoy living a transparent life. So, without further ado, I’m Taryn Champion and I underwent breast augmentation.
There you go, I said it! Gen X’s are probably thinking, “What on earth was she thinking?” while Millennial’s may be a little more broad-minded. Whether you’re a Gen X or Millennial, with or without an opinion, it really is inconsequential. I’ve always been a “do you for you” kind of person and the decision to get my body “modified” if you will, was purely for this reason. I did ME for ME and have no regrets whatsoever.
Let me give you the run down on why I chose to go under the knife at the age of 30.
Itty Bitty Titty Committee
For as long as I can remember (since approximately 7th grade), my lady lumps were significantly smaller than my friends and sisters. I was always the petite gamine girl with minimal curves. I wouldn’t complain and didn’t think I was unfortunate in any way, although I always wondered what it would be like to have “girls” that I could show off from time to time. I’d listen to friends talk about needing special bras because their cleavage would just pop. I’d comfort others as they complained about on-going backache as a result of their cup size. I obviously couldn’t relate at all. I was the girl who could sleep on my chest, go braless if I had the urge to do so and run a marathon without worrying about my breasts bouncing or scraping the pavement. I certainly loved the freedom of it all and felt confident with what I had, but, in the back of my mind, the thought of “I wonder what it would be like to have larger breasts?” would continuously come to mind.
Reason behind the milkshakes
Leading up to my 30th birthday, it felt like a tiny alarm had gone off inside me. Everyone around me started throwing questions my way. “What are you doing for your 30th birthday?”, “Are you having a birthday bash?”, “What do you want for your birthday”. You know? The usual.
After being bombarded from all directions, I pondered long and hard on what I desired most for my birthday. A trip overseas which can be done whenever, a huge 30th birthday bash, which I personally thought was such a waste of cash for such a short period of time, or my hidden desire- breast augmentation.
I discussed these options with my family and eventually decided that before I hit 30, I’ll finally have the ‘girls’ I’ve always wondered about.
“A” 2 “C” in 1.5
My surgery took place at Brooklyn hospital in Pretoria. I went into theatre at around 7:20am and was out before 9:00am. Overall the operation took a short 1.5 hours. I probably frightened you in my intro with the detailed pain paragraph, but in actual fact the pain after surgery was quite manageable. I’m literally a baby when it comes to pain, so believe me when I say it is doable. Having a very small frame with not much breast tissue to play with, I was advised to go for subpectoral placement which involves lodging the implant under the pectoralis major muscle. Submuscular implants tend to be the best for mammograms, as they put the implant fully behind the area that needs to be examined. The implants were inserted through my armpit to avoid visible scars. 325 CCs of saline implants were placed in each breast giving me the size and proportion I desired.
After surgery I rested for a few hours and was sent home. Of course I was given the option to stay the night, but I preferred being at home to suffer in silence (literally). The first three days of recovery were atrocious. Manageably atrocious if that even makes sense. Besides having drains lodged into the side of each breast, the antibiotics made me very nauseas resulting in loss of appetite. I couldn’t shower (I bathed, don’t worry), I couldn’t lift my arms, I couldn’t eat without assistance and I had to sleep on my back all night which caused such insane backache. Other than this, the road to recovery after day 3 was seamless. My angel of a sister and mother looked after me, and when I say looked after me, they literally fed and bathed me, helped me out of bed, washed my hair and even pulled my pants down when I needed the loo. I was completely immobile but thanks to them, the recovery process wasn’t as drastic as I envisioned.
Overall I’m delighted with the choice I made. I have no regrets and according to my sister, I’m so much more confident now (not complaining). I might be a tinge obsessed with underwear shopping, but I’m learning to control myself. I just cannot wait to rock my bikini this summer!