Waiting for the droop...

So it has been a little while and I am slowly getting used to the cold packs on my chest.  I guess I'll get right down to the bosoms of the blog.  One of the implants has fallen or shifted out of place.  It's not really noticeable unless you are a breast expert or just an avid boob watcher, but my surgeon noticed right away.  It doesn't really bug me that they aren't at the same height because it is easily remedied with a bra, but the cave on my chest drives me bonkers.  It is really easy to see that something used to be there and has migrated southward.

Because this implant has a mind of its own, my plastic surgeon has decided that I need a revision.  I guess it will be as simple as poppin' the implant out, placing a few stitches, and then replacing the implant in the newly formed pocket.  Sounds easy, I guess...  She is thinking that she may be able to do a revision and create nipples at the same time.  That way I am limiting the number of times I am put under anesthesia.  I am just waiting a few more weeks to see if the other will droop as well.  We are truly hoping this works out for the best.  Also, to throw everything off Joshua is fixin' to deploy for a year to the lovely lands of Afghanistan.  Oh yay.  We are shooting for an October surgery so that he will be able to be here and help with the girls.  Anyways, back to the boobs...

I usually wear a sports bra and could sing the praises of the Under Armor sports bra all day long.  Joshua brought me one home as a surprise, (yeah I know, some chicks get flowers and chocolates, but there's nothing more close to my heart than damn good support and my man knows it!) and I find it absolutely perfect.  I regret double baggin' the double D's before all this and wish I had spent the half a hundy on one of these crafty contraptions.  It might have saved a few black eyes and possibly a life!  I know that at this point I am able to go commando or well, the female version of that, but my chest feels weird and almost feels like I am always wearing a bra that tight feeling.  And, at night, it if I don't wear a bra I am battling those boobs to get comfortable without causing pain. 

I still don't have any feeling in the region, but notice every once in a while I get a strange sensation and can't place where it's coming from or what causes it.  Like an inside itch that you can't get to under the implant.  It drives me absolutely batty, but I guess I like to feel something.  My scars are healing nicely and aren't as I had imagined.  I had pictured these gruesome, raised dark red lines that mark where I've been pieced back together, but they actually are a pleasant shade of pink and are flush with my skin.  Overall, I'm pretty happy.  Of course, I have to remind my self every once in a while that this was the right decision.