Image Transformation—First the Thighs, Now the Boobs

I was coming up on my birthday and was prone to the inevitably increased and not-so clandestine looks in every mirror that I passed. Where was my body going without me? I was looking saggy. My bust line, that is. I had seen a recent photograph, shot at my daughter’s graduation, and realized that “perky” no longer pertained.

Time to take action. I ordered some of those breast elevators. You know, the ones that stick to your skin and do a mini-lift, all for $9.99 plus shipping which brings the total to $23.79. Struck by the price, I thought, “How much could they possibly weigh?” But I still clicked on the purchase sign. They are on the way.

Then I thought about a boob lift. I am not even sure if the surgery is available. Then I thought about what my kids might think. It would probably be the wrong message to give to the girls. So finally I settled on a trip to our local lingerie and intimate apparel shop for some new undergarments.

I was greeted by a twenty-something young woman. Although she was very professional and very sweet, with a small perky bust line, I was not yet feeling better. I told her that I wanted something with lift and support. She confidently recommended the brand I liked the best, so some of my misgivings subsided. Her youthful appearance disappeared as one barrier to success on this mission.

Then she measured me. She did it without even touching me! Pretty good, I’d say. She announced, “You are a 34 or 36, what size cup, C or D?” I had no idea. I have been a 36 C recently (lamenting in my mind when I had been a trimmer 34 B in my younger days, much younger, days).

She brought in several bras. When I had changed into one or another, she took a look. She asked me how they felt. They felt saggy. She meant the bras, I meant their contents.

She announced again with much authority (still too much for someone so young I believe), “You should try a 34 D. When the cup is too small you can go up a size in the cup and down a size in the circumference. It will hold you in better.” I didn’t know that!

I was beginning to feel out of control of this situation. I was getting bigger when I wanted to be getting smaller. But I listened to her and tried the bra. I felt (and looked) much better. I purchased 3 different styles, some in two colors, and left the store.

How did I go down in one size and up in another? Then I remembered the bathing suits, the dresses, the pants, I still wear a size 10. How is that possible? I am 20 pounds heavier than when I was married 30 years ago and I was a size 10 then. And I was 5’6”. Now I can barely measure 5’4 ½”. Even if I stand really tall. No, I don’t have osteoporosis—my vertebrae have auto-fused after 2 lumbar discectomies. So I have lost some height. Not exactly what I wanted to lose.

And then I remembered the little speech I give to many parents of teens who want to know how their child’s cute little nose is now crooked, bumpy or too big. I explained to them how we are all born with cute-as-a-button little noses and not one adult I had ever met had the same nose as when they were born. I say with authority, “As we age, our body changes.”

And I guess our job is either to overcome these changes or to live with a new image. Which one will you choose when the time comes? I have made my stand. I hope it works.