My chest has always been embarrassingly breast-like. I’ve always concealed it, which is why today I was walking around town in a hoodie in 20 degree weather, not able to own up to it. On several occasions over the last 13 years or so I’ve tried dieting down pretty radically and I’ve tried bulking up. Also worked through CBT books for a couple of months on a couple of occasions. But It’s beyond question that I’m not capable of just making peace with it. I haven’t been able to stop it dominating my life. So I’ll be having a procedure at the end of the month to sort it. I’ll be paying for it on credit, using income from a rental property that my uncle bought for me. He’s not rich but he’s always saved his money. My mum also contributed something.
I’m embarrassed by all this privilege. I’ve spent periods living and working away but I’ve had this rental income supplementing me for the last 4 years. I live at home now. I finished studying accounting in May but I’m not employed yet. I’ve become mortified by the wise-ass tone of my previous posts and I feel I should acknowledge that I’m a sheltered and pretty stunted 28 year old.
And the result:
It’s been thrilling, joyous, a dream come true. Leaving aside the misguided fight I put up against it for years with my diet and in the gym (better put that Brazil nut back, four’s too many) and the lengths I’ve gone to to conceal it at all times- even leaving all that aside- my mind went to my chest I’d say on average every 15 minutes (for a decade) and it now never occurs to me at all unless I’m getting a shower or whatever. So in that way it must be life-changing.