So my husband's 25th High School class reunion was this past Saturday. The women, most of them, looked amazing. A lot of them have had some type of plastic surgery, most notably boob jobs.
I've never been a plastic surgery snob, and think it's okay if it's not Michael Jackson crazy extreme. I had several "skinny bitch" moments at the reunion, then learned that a lot of these women have been divorced, have growing/grown kids, and probably ONLY have their looks to keep them happy (whatever that means for them).
After my disappointment with not being able to wear my gorgeous black dress because of the muffin top, and after seeing the handiwork of Evansville's finest plastic surgeons, I had to wonder--would I have surgery to get my body into better shape in my 40s?
I talked with my husband about it this morning. Granted, he was drowsy from being up until 5 a.m., but he said if I wanted to get lipo on my stomach and get my mommy breasts lifted, I can.
Holy cow. Just the idea is scary and exciting.
Who knows if we'll have the money 4 years from now. Who knows if I'll even need it after I get to my goal weight. But the idea of the possibility is tantalizing.
I've never had perky boobs. Okay, maybe when I was 10 and had breast buds (TMI, sorry!). But I've always had big ones and even when I was a 34C they were ample. This is not a bad thing, I just don't want to have National Geographic boobs in my 40s and 50s when the rest of me could conceivably look pretty good.
And my stomach, oy. I can live with curvy hips. Been doing that my whole life. But this spare tire of baby fat has got to go. If a reasonable amount of exercise and weight loss doesn't do it, I'm afraid it's SCHHHLLOOOOP of the belly fat on the operating table.
We'll see. It's too soon to get serious about it. But it's out there now. Perhaps it will be my 40th birthday present.
Personal transformation takes a long time and a lot of work.