Weddingbee Blog

I have numerous blog posts in draft form, potential topics to write about, like “catering search” or “long distance stuff”. One of my drafts says:

wedding dress + boobs

I had planned this blog in my head months ago. How I would write about my trepidation for dress shopping.

Me and dresses… don’t get along. Shopping trips usually ended with me in tears of frustration. My dress shopping fear and anxiety is so well known that when I was a bridesmaid in a friend’s wedding, her fiance sent along a flask of caramel apple martini, just for me. And I drank it. In the dressing room of David’s Bridal.

I anticipated the dress search being the culmination of my dress-shopping woes and frustrations. I am just so dang hard to fit: I am 4′11″, not an inch taller. My torso is short. And then, the boobs.

Oh, the boobs! We’re not talking D/DD boobs. We are talking E and F territory.

With a size 4 waist and a size 12/14 top, I only half-heartedly flipped through the pages of wedding magazines, knowing I’d be unable to wear 90% of the gowns shown. I figured I’d search for a V-neck frock, maybe like the simple one I wrote previously about. But there’s been a game-changer.

A few months ago I made the decision to consult with a surgeon about breast reduction. It all happened very quickly: gads of (some very scary) Internet research, constant second-guessing and soul-searching, two consultations with two different surgeons, insurance approval, pre-op appointment, the careful arranging of time off, and then, this past August, the surgery.

Typical. I’m mean-mugging in a Johnny and Mr. Potato Head is stealing my hospital food.

I spent about two weeks in recovery on the couch, with shooting pains and a 24/7 sports bra and ice packs (and Vicoden!). I also had time to sift, once again, through those wedding magazines, and contemplate how this very huge decision (a 34E decision?!) would change the dress search and make it, surprisingly, more palatable.

But, the reason I write about it here: a mere two weeks after my surgery was the infamous Filene’s Running of the Brides. Which my friends were dying to participate in. Fine, I said. If I’m feeling up to it, I’ll go. I’ll wear my sports bra, we’ll go at 1 in the afternoon, and I’ll sit in the corner while my mom and friends sift through heavy gowns and bring them over to me. A radical decision with surprising results (stay tuned!).

This was my game-changer of the utmost degree. I write about it jokingly, but please know I considered this a huge, life-changing decision.

Any other breast reductioners out there? Want to trade war stories??