Yikes. It is nearly here. My breast operation. Bye bye massive mammaries. Hello cute little pert things. Ha! I wish. The truth is at 57 no amount of surgery is going to give me pert breasts. But. They will hopefully be smaller and for that I will be incredibly grateful. I will be able to exercise without getting a black eye! I will be able to turn over in bed at night without having to go back to fetch one of my breasts.
People keep asking me if I’m excited or scared. I am neither I don’t think. A little apprehensive maybe and I’m certainly not looking forward to the aftermath of the anaesthetic (I hate anaesthetics). I guess I’m just philosophical about it. My breasts have not reduced significantly in size despite having lost 3 stones so this is my treat to myself. I will no doubt wish I’d had them done sooner. This is what nearly everyone says.
Today we go up to Plymouth and stay overnight in a hotel near the Nuffield. I have to present myself at the hospital at 7am tomorrow and I am worried in case I sleep through an alarm. Not that I have ever slept through an alarm in my life but still, I’ve convinced myself this time I will. The hospital is 90 minutes’ drive from Falmouth so I want to make sure I’m there. And in any case staying overnight beforehand is a bit of a nice treat as we will be going to a Thai place to eat tonight. Having been on a low carb diet for what seems like forever I’m more excited about eating some noodles then I am having my breasts reduced.
I did some reading last night and apparently I’m not meant to have drunk any alcohol for the past couple of weeks. Oops. We had rather an exuberant barbecue on Sunday which involved vast quantities of gin with lemoncello. Oh. I have ordered a triangular pillow. Essential apparently. And am about to go into town to buy arnica and bio-oil.
It’s all getting a bit real. Gulp.