Here we go. The day before the rest of my life.

Phase 2 of my Mommy Makeover. Breast reduction.

Boob jobs don’t seem deep, but they are, no matter which way you go.

The way we view ourselves affects everything. Self image is often the only manifestation of deep hurts and deep triumphs. People often don’t face the real things that hurt them, but everyone decides if they like what they see in the mirror. A lot of us look, but choose to not see. To not feel. Just so we can walk around and be ok.

Big boobs have value. Status. Prom dates.

“Nice rack” is the equivalent of you are worth something.

I’m about to go down in value. Not to myself, of course, cuz I don’t need that from anyone anymore. I don’t need all eyes (and hands) in those places. I don’t need the burden.

What I do need is relief. Lightness. Ease. Freedom.

These girls have been part of my identity since I was in middle school. I got lots of attention. I wanted to be liked and they probably helped.

Who doesn’t want to be liked?

These girls have served a purpose, and I have benefited from them.

They have gotten me into clubs when the line was around the block.

They have nourished my babies.

They have done all the things they were supposed to do, if you know what I mean.

But their job is done, in many ways. Not in all ways, we still have lots of life to love. But we can do that without back pain. Without neck pain. Without being suffocated.

Without the weight of a lifetime.

With shirts that fit. With freedom of movement and deep breaths without trying.

Saying goodbye to part of me isn’t easy…but saying hello to the rest of me is the easiest thing I have ever done.

Send me all the good juju tomorrow. I’m gonna need it.