Doubting about a breast reduction?

Since I was sixteen, I've been walking around with large breasts. At first, I didn't even find it such a problem. In fact, I was even happy about it. At that age, you'd rather have a lot than nothing at all. Until I started taking the pill and my D-cup became an H-cup. Suddenly, I couldn't squeeze myself into Hunkemöller bras anymore. Instead, I had to go to expensive lingerie stores where I then had to pay a hundred euros for a grandma bra. It wasn't sexy, no. With every outfit I wore, my breasts were the focal point. Summer was absolutely terrible: I couldn't fit into nice bikinis and finding summer tops was quite a challenge. When I lay on the beach next to my friends, I could cry because I felt so ‘fat’ and ‘big’. But even during sports, I noticed it really became a hindrance; running on the treadmill just hurt. Now that I'm 19, I finally dared to take the big step. I got a referral from the doctor without any effort to see a surgeon in a nearby Dutch hospital. My bra wasn't even off yet, and my Flemish plastic surgeon immediately said the words I hoped to hear: ‘Oh girl, we're going to arrange that for you.’

In the meantime, I often doubted. I was very afraid that my body would become out of proportion, but everyone around me said I just had to do it. I also started to see the benefits more and more, so four months later, it was time. At five in the morning, the alarm went off, and a few hours later, I was in the operating room. A nurse said to me: ’Wow, we rarely see people as relaxed as you before an operation.‘ That lady had no idea how much tension I had because inside, I was completely eating myself up.

A few hours later, I was woken up, and the first thing I did was look down, but there wasn't much to see yet. My whole neck was yellow from the Betadine, and my compression bra was stuffed with gauze. There were also two drains with wound fluid coming out of my breasts. I panicked and asked the nurse: ‘Did you forget something during the operation?’ Well, I wish it were that simple. I had to walk around with those things at home for three more days, day and night.

Fortunately, I had a day admission and was allowed to go home at the end of the afternoon. Sitting in the car was no fun, but luckily I was completely flat from the pain relief, so you couldn't hear me. Once home, the party began: sleeping was impossible, and I couldn't get off the couch by myself. I felt like an old lady. The worst part was that I couldn't shower for three weeks. Every day, cleaning myself with a washcloth stopped helping after a while. I had my hair washed and dried at the hairdresser every week because secretly, I'm quite a pampered person. Besides the physical discomfort, I was constantly overthinking in my head. What if it doesn't look nice? What if I walk around with scars for my whole life? I drove myself completely crazy.

After a week of just lounging on the couch, I was done with it. I had completely finished watching The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, all twelve seasons. Of course, it wasn't the intention for me to immediately get back to work or go to festivals. Exercising was definitely out of the question. The wound needs to heal, and that doesn't happen if your body is constantly busy. I'm someone who likes to do fun things, so the recovery period was an issue for me. All my friends were going out, and I stayed home with my good behavior. My FOMO has never been tested so severely.

Until the check-up after three weeks, I didn't dare to look at how it looked. I'm terrified of stitches and bloody scenes, so I preferred to wait. In the hospital, the stitches were removed, and that same afternoon, I rushed to Hunkemöller. I was pleasantly surprised: finally, my breasts matched my body. I stood in that fitting room for half an hour, amazed. I never expected such a beautiful natural end result. Suddenly, I could fit into all my summer tops again and felt more confident. So everyone who is hesitating to do it: please don't wait twenty years. Know that there are many options. For me, this was the best decision ever.