The idea is that women should be able to do what they want. Your opinion is that elective surgery is to be shunned, but not everyone feels that way.
Obviously, you are against it. Great, don’t get a boob job.
I know that a lot of women get surgery to impress their husbands or boyfriends or whoever. But I also personally know women who had it done because they wanted to enhance their appearance for their own personal reasons. I call that getting it for yourself. People shouldn’t have to defend their reasoning. It’s their own business.
I can only cite my own anecdotal evidence on the subject, but I have had quite a bit of contact with this topic. I’ve seen some surgeries that looked pretty bad, but I’ve also seen many that have turned out beautifully. You have to be careful in finding the right surgeon, and you have to do the research and make sure it’s the right choice for you. It’s not something to be taken lightly, which is why I think so many women get fucked up from it.
I think the key is for breasts to be in proportion to your body if you are going for the fake ones. Mine are real and SO out of proportion with the rest of me. I keep hoping that Santa will bring me a breast reduction in his gift bag, but alas, I’m sure it is not to be. I am springing for the operation myself sometime next spring. “C” cup freedom, here I come!
I believe someone with better math skills could work out a more acceptable answer for you, but I’m just saying that I believe a taller, more amazonian woman could pull off bigger breasts than a petite woman who is built more like a boy except for the humongous floatation devices.
Have you checked with your insurance company? I had absolutely no problem getting mine approved after having documented back problems with my doctor (at age 20, nonetheless!). That’s what insurance is for!
Y’know, the issue of this thread is going to continue so long as people are willing to put forward the notion that some body types qualify as “real women” and the rest of us are clever fakes. This sort of thing just reinforces the stupid thing and tries to pass it on by co-opting folks into a “we” and defining them as people who don’t “look like women”.
Seriously, is there anyone in this thread who can’t figure out I’m a chick? I don’t have a cleavage unless I plant one hand on either side of my chest and push until my areolae touch.
Helen, get ready to launch some ships. Save up your dough and get the reduction! I know two women who were heavily endowed and dealt with the back problems, the fashion problems, the inability to exercise (and ensuing weight gain) and so on for far too long; they each went for reductions and are both much happier. I’ve also seen them each in swimsuits, and there’s no way to tell they had any work done. If anything, they look more proportional and “natural”. The one piece of advice they both passed along was that you need to do as your doctor says for post-op care, to avoid scarring and any extra pain.
It’s a great boost to your self-image, and lightens your physical load making you feel much better. Less stress, fewer dirty old men ogling you, and perhaps a few more dirty young men admiring you.
Ms. D_Odds is a d-cup. Doesn’t prevent looking. Sometimes I don’t even know I’m looking. It just happens.
Best suggestion I can give is don’t take it personally. Harder than it sounds though. Lucky for me, neither Ms. D_Odds nor I take the other’s wandering eye personally. Eyes can wander, but the whole body comes home every night.
Considering that at least two Dopers have labored under the misapprehension that I’m a woman I’d say that the patently obvious truth and what some folks believe can be two very different things.
The best advice I’ve ever seen on the subject of men’s attitudes about women’s bodies and our ensuing insecurity about ourselves was from some chick magazine, oddly enough.
It basically said that while we’re thinking, “Oh my god, he’s gonna see my cellulite”, “He thinks my tits are too small”, “Oh no, I hope he doesn’t notice that my breasts are lopsided…maybe if I just shift a little this way and cover myself up with this blanket over here and suck in my gut and cover my thighs and AAH!!!”
He’s thinking,
"Holy shit, there’s a naked girl in here! Woooohoooo! "
One of my all-time-favorite cheesy movies is Road House, and there’s a scene where the buxom blonde gets propositioned with a line something like, “What say you and I go back to your place and get nipple to nipple” to which she replies, “I can do that without you.”
Ever since the first time I saw that movie I have been wishing for an opportunity to use that line. (Even though really I’m very happy that no one has ever hit on me in such a crappy way!)
(A little frantic. My first attempt at baking pie is in the oven, I’m not packed and we’re leaving for a week and a half tomorrow . . . but aside from that, jes’ fine. )
It’s a hobby.
After this week, oh hell yeah. (And I’ve got a bottle of sweet peach mead to bring to this evening’s pie party, too.)
