If all the trinkets and chachkas I’ve won over the last year are indeed payoff from The Big Guy (and not Ed McMahon) for being Cancerific, what I got the day before yesterday was almost the evil opposite of a consolation prize–almost as if He was making fun of me! Consider Tuesday’s booty (ha) more of a booby prize. Here’s why:
Monday morning, Dr. White and his Evil Assistant assured me that yes, while I will be donating my own fat to my ever-changing breasts through liposuction, it wont be as if I was there for cosmetic liposuction. You pay for thin thighs, they gonna suck some fat! You just need some for a little padding in your bra, they can’t justify taking 500 cc’s of fat when only 50 cc’s are needed. Or so they told me.
Monday morning, I was told I probably needed 20 cc’s of fat added to my reconstructed breasts to soften areas of angularity and to fill in some areas of painful atrophy. In identifying a donor area on my body, they went for the middle. My belly, they said, had 30-40 cc’s available (thanks…), so there would be a BIG cosmetic difference in my belly if they took from there–the flat belly of my dreams, they bragged!
“But I want my thighs gone!” I begged. “My belly is flat enough!” While I relish my role as a Sephardi mother, my Ashkenazi ancestry is evident in my bottom half. How I have longed to have the fat sucked out of my thunderous thighs! I never believed I would ever pay to have liposuction (not quite vain enough), but if the opportunity presented itself… And here was the opportunity! So close–take from the thighs!
Or so I thought. Right before I went under, I pulled the Chief Resident toward me. “Listen. I’ve been though a lot. I wouldn’t be so sad if you, you know, took a little bit EXTRA from my thighs.” “I’m sorry, ma’am, I don’t think we are going to use your thighs at all…” He continued pushing something into my IV to make me shut up. Again, I addressed him. “Whatever. Take the thighs…” The next thing I remember, I was screaming for pain medicine to put out the burning in my upper thighs. The only thing that distracted me from the feeling of fire ants running up and down my legs was the stabbing pain in my new breastal region. The area I affectionately called, “The Finger Lakes,” was filled in nicely, but ached like nothing I’d felt before! And let’s not even begin to discuss the pain in the t-shirt tater that was reconstructed!
However, my husband tells me I WON the ‘Boobie’ prize! At the requisite meeting of surgeon and husband (while I was in recovery), Dr. White let my DH know that “she’s going to be very happy with her silhouette” Apparently, I got ‘extra’ thigh lipo to go with the stomach lipo (“She was right, she didn’t have enough,”). My Ashkenazi thighs yeilded lots and lots of fat to graft on my reconstructed cantaloupes.
I didn’t think lipo would be that noticeable, more of a booby prize than anything, until my husband, ehem, decided to critique Dr. White’s work. This man who has been a fan of my tachat for 13 and a half years and knows my body as well as I do took a good, long look, then exclaimed, “Oh my G-d! They took your whole @ss!”
Booby prize, indeed! This, my dear husband, is a booty prize. ;)