Come una Cipolla

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In realtà non avevo intenzione di condividere questa storia con il mondo, ma ho cambiato idea e ho deciso di condividerla comunque.

Category

i am dee

Date

29/10/2021

Length

5 min read

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Because this chapter of my story is a significant part of me and my beautiful journey into aging, self-acceptance, and self-love. By sharing this, I hope to inspire others; I know many women walk the same path.

Long ago, when I was 19, I was young and insecure about my appearance. Like most young women, I dreaded parts of my body like my breasts; they were too small and uneven, in my opinion. Without thinking much about it, I decided to have my breasts enlarged, and after the operation, they were just perfect. The right size (and equal), not too big and not too small, the right shape too, and nobody noticed I had an enlargement. I thought my insecurities were caused by my petite cup size. Still, soon after the enlargement, I realized that my insecurities weren’t only caused by my cup size, but that’s another story.

I can only say that I have been pleased with the decision of breast enlargement for a total of 27 years, and I’ve never had any adverse symptoms or not that I am aware of. I realize very well that it is very different for many women. But despite the joy I had of my bought breasts, there was also a concern that grew more extensive the older I got. I had silicone prostheses in my body; they can tear, leak, sweat, and make you sick. At 19, I thought, oh well, who cares. I was young, lived for myself, and didn’t think for a moment whether this would be good or bad for my health. But from the moment the expiration date of around 10 years had passed, I was 30 at that time, there was a tiny voice in my head saying: they need to be replaced or removed.

"L'ammirazione che avevo per il mio corpo con endometriosi che è riuscito a fare un bambino dopo tutto e come i miei seni hanno nutrito il mio tanto desiderato bambino per più di un anno ha cambiato tutto."

So I’ve had them checked over the years. I had mammography exams, and every time the specialists said, everything looked fine, no problems, just let them be. Besides, I was busy with my career and my life, and time was ticking. So it happened that at 39, I still had the breast implants when I got pregnant; I breastfed for over a year and then postponed, postponed, and postponed removal until 5 weeks ago. The delay was mainly caused by the fact that I didn’t have symptoms. It was just never the right time and, planning this operation took some courage.

It was just that little voice in my head and the confrontation with other women’s stories who got sick from it that made me grab the phone and call for an appointment with the specialist. Apart from the expiration date of the implants, the horrible experiences of other women with implants, and the little voice in my head that said “get them out of there,” there was one other fundamental reason: self-love. After giving birth to my son, my self-esteem had changed. After all, the admiration I had for my Endometriosis body that managed to make a baby after all and how my breasts fed my long-wanted baby for more than a year changed everything.

What in the end may have been the most significant deciding factor in having them removed and not renewed is AndBloom. I often speak about the positive influence of women on each other. How the sisterhood and supporting other women can be a gamechanger. I have got to know so many inspiring and influential women through this project, in real life, and on Instagram. Women like you who helped me go through such personal growth in recent years. I’ve learned from many of you about self-love, self-respect, and acceptance. It has helped me see myself differently. And not just in terms of aging.

Today it’s been 5 weeks since my surgery. It was unpleasant, the pain in my chest but also the aftermath of the anesthesia. I did not post about the surgery on my account; in fact, I didn’t want to share this part of myself at all. I finally chose to post this story on this essential subject because many women have had breast enlargements for the same reasons I had or are considering doing one.

"Thinking back on my 19-year-old self making this decision, having them enlarged, I want to scream DON’T!"

Also, the insecurity about breast size for many women is often caused by a ridiculous beauty standard of society. The pressure and the desire to be “perfect” according to our community is, in many cases, ultimately sickening. I was fortunate that I did not get sick from the silicones; they were intact after the operation, after being inside my body for 27 years. The relief that they are out is significant, and yes, my breasts are smaller, but I still think they are lovely. Although they look different now, less perfect, have different shapes, one big(ger), one small(er), these breasts are my own.

It’s another lesson to learn. Thinking back on my 19-year-old self making this decision, having them enlarged, I want to scream DON’T! You don’t need to fit any beauty standards; your breasts are beautiful enough, and don’t be insecure; you are perfect as you are.

But I also know that I’d never listened.

Ps: the period after the breast implant removal was all about getting to know me again. About saying goodbye to a part of me (even though theoretically they weren’t even mine). I was anxious to decide for the surgery and embrace my new breasts; I didn’t know what to expect. Was my current self-love enough to love the breasts I was so terribly insecure about as a 19-year-old? Walking around on the beach of Greece in a bathing suit last week made it real, and it was ok. It was also there on that beach that I decided to share my story with the world. It is ok to be less perfect. Our lives are our journeys, we live, and we learn, and we make silly decisions. We change our minds whenever we change our minds, and it is all ok.

I sometimes feel like an onion, stripping layer after layer of things that no longer serve me. It is a beautiful journey to get to know yourself; it comes with some tears but many of those tears come of laughter.

Love Dee