The Birth of Nork & Nindy ...nanu nanu new boobs!

So it seems that whilst I've been away and under immense amounts of anaesthetic and living through 6 days of drooling, moaning, peeing in a bed pan...well trying to ( ashamedly I didn't always hit target !) and recovery...my boobs have well and truly been hijacked !

Therefore I am as of now, re-claiming my blog (well for the time being ) just to inform, update or entertain any lovely ladies out there still interested in my (not Nork & Nindy's) side of  'Boob Job Blog' part 3!

So waking up early on Monday 9th Jan, I felt pretty sick really and I mean proper sick, that nauseous, stomach churning involuntary need to stick a toothbrush down my throat kind of sick ! You may be thinking that my nausea had something to do with the anticipation, excitement and nervousness at the impending long awaited 'Boob Reduction'? But no, in fact I hadn't really and truly given it much thought , you see the source of all this sickness was the thought of all the work and preparation I had to do before even being able to physically leave the house to go into hospital !


As a mum and wife and ok I'll admit it (an OCD control freak who loves playing the martyr)  I had the single biggest preparation list inside my head, which under no circumstances would not be completed and ticked off before I allowed myself to leave the house.  I had a very desperate addiction to organise, clean the house, change beds, wash, cook vast amounts of homemade soup?, iron every item in the basket (including the cat's blanket, she's very fussy and despises creases) and generally prepare for the 'nuclear winter' that would undoubtedly occur whilst I'm not there! I'm assuming that this is all normal behaviour? although it's only ever happened twice before in my life and that was when I was pregnant....and in that case it was given a pucker medical term called 'nesting'! Well you can't have pregnant ladies thinking they're going slightly bonkers now can you? So I'm assuming my pre-op behaviour is also normal....so I'm calling it 'breasting' .....after all I shall be giving new life to my Norks!  Besides I was seriously concerned about when any of the domestic chores would ever be done again, (well to my exacting standards anyway) given the estimated recovery period for my surgery is 6-8 weeks !

So there I am running a precision military operation consisting of chores, school runs, a last minute dog walk, and and even a quick nip to Asda, in the tank, for standard issue hospital slippers. Eventually at 8pm I am admitted into hospital, dog rough, knackered and with 'that' headache, you know  the one you get from consuming only chocolate and caffeine for the last 24 hours ! But hey I'm smug, I am vainglorious (just because I now know what that word means!) I have completed my list and am safe in the knowledge that my family won't collapse, die of hunger or need to wear yesterdays undies (apart from Mr PB that is, same pair for 2 days, just his personal preference!) because I'm not there!

To my delight, on admission I'm given a private room which comes with an impressive en-suite ! It's actually plusher than some hotels I've had the pleasure of staying in and the wide grin on my face doesn't go un-noticed by the nurse. 'I can't guarantee they won't move you to a ward later ' she says ' bursting my bubble immediately! At this precise moment, Little Miss H and I are checking out the bed, bouncing up and down and squishing the pillows. Looking over to her I say 'well as long as they don't move me whilst I'm sleeping (I don't wanna wake up disorientated somewhere new) then I don't really mind'!  Little Miss H giggles and then announces that the pillows are pants and that I should have just brought my Hungarian Goose Feather one from home! But you know what, that beauty cost me £55 and after all this is Liverpool,  and there is every probability that it will get 'robbed' from under my athethetised head! Fortunately for us, Little Miss H doesn't understand the necessary health and safety caution procedures of being in Liverpool well after all we've only let her go there 3 times since she was born!

Soon it's time for MrPB, Miss C and Little Miss H to love me and leave me. Miss C is clearly bored and can't wait to get back to her social networking, MrPB is tired and just wants to chill at home and Little Miss H is now welling up. She has sad eyes and just wants to stay with her ma, and so after much kissing, cuddling and hugging,....and kissing and hugging.....MrPB eventually has to resort to forcibly removing her from my body, peeling her away limb by limb; and then they leave.

However for all the drama of the day and having said my goodbyes. Once I'm alone in my room the realisation soon begins to sink in. Oh god, I am actually having this done! I take some time to look at my pendulous bangers and start to try to visualise how they will be transformed and into what cup size they will change? Now whilst I'm dreamily imagining how I'll look with perfect breasts (and this image also somehow includes longer legs and a washboard stomach?) panic suddenly strikes as I have yet to decided on a size. I've been told that my consultant won't be seeing me until the morning and also that apparently I'm first on the list to go to theatre ! Ok, so when exactly will the vital discussion on size,volume,shape and nipple pertness happen between patient and consultant? Immediately terror, fear, confusion (and the odd rude word) starts to overwhelm me and I ring MrPB in a total state. Poor MrPB, he's only just arrived home and put his feet up and doesn't need me gibbering and talking hysterical nonsense about refusing to go to theatre if I haven't seen my consultant in time. I'm scared, after all this is the NHS, can I trust them? What if my consultant is delayed and can't see me? What if they just get some hospital porter to put on a white coat , cover me in marker pen then knock me out ?! 'NO, I WILL REFUSE TO BUDGE FROM THIS BED UNLESS I AM SATISFIED THEY KNOW WHAT SIZE AND SHAPE TO MAKE - THESE ARE MY BOOBS !!!' It's fair to say, that at this point MrPB did an excellent job of calming me down and reminding me I hadn't yet signed the consent letter and only when I was happy would I sign and no of course they wouldn't get the size wrong and no he didn't think he would need to pop out to buy chicken fillets to fill my bras cause said hospital porter had left me with a AA cup!

This will be me...but with slightly smaller eyes !

Much to my relief my Consultant arrives to see me the next morning and with only 20 minutes to go before boobie 're-birth' begins, he gets to work. He starts to measure and mark and asks all the right questions in order to get the information needed to go forth and create breasts of the most splendiferous kind ! I stand naked (apart from my Bridget Jones knickers) whilst he draws with thick black marker pen all over my boobs. He methodically marks areas of mammary that will no doubt disappear, areas that require significant 'uplift' and shows me where my new nipples will be! I feel like I'm on an episode of Nip Tuck but there's NO Los Angeles glamour here, although I did shave my armpits the night before!  I feel exposed but at the same time his confident use of the pen and single mindedness whilst working, calms me and fill me with assurance. I wonder if he sees this 'marking task' as a 'pert' of his job?!

Looking back on it now, as I'm waiting for the anaesthetic to kick in, my pre-op meltdown was nothing short of farcical but knowing myself the way I do it was doubtlessly unavoidable! Starting to feel sleepy as the anaesthetic flows into my body I feel pleasantly inebriated and decide to have a quick 40 winks ;)

........Concludes next post with the big reveal !

Is more than a 'handful' a waste ?!!

So all you beautiful ladies with big boobs let me tell you about my pre-op appointment and invite you to share the second instalment of 'Boob Job Blog' ! Oh and anyone with boobs is welcome to read whatever your cup size, I embrace you all !

And if you've stumbled across this post first, you can always follow the link below to read from the beginning :)

http://viewfromtheloungewindow.blogspot.com/2012/01/its-as-easy-as-abc-or-ddeor-f-cup.html

Is more than a 'handful' a waste ?!!

So it’s fair to say that I woke last Wednesday morning with a start, the first and foremost on my mind was holy sh*t will I make the weigh in today at the pre-op?! You see to meet the weight criteria for this operation you have to have a certain BMI otherwise they ask you to lose weight instead! I mean, we've just had Christmas for God’s sake (well Jesus’ I guess!), with booze, food, all manner of things chocolate and vast quantities of them at that. Oh and I’ve also been a lazy cow too, sleeping in late and generally living the life of a sloth, in fact a sloth that has just been crowned laziest sloth in the world! So there was me, rummaging through my wardrobe,  I needed to find the perfect outfit that combined lightness of fabric with boob enhancing powers. You see for all the extra lbs I've put on over Christmas, my damn boobs are looking smaller than ever?! Now this cannot be true, the fact is they've always been huge whatever my weight, so how come now just when I need them to look their largest do they seem nothing short of 'normal' size ?! I know I’m being ridiculous I realise that the reality is that they haven't changed size and even if they had, it wouldn't be enough to disqualify me from having the op, but all the same I'm flapping a bit.

With outfit chosen, a light floaty summer dress but with DM boots and woolly tights (well it is Jan)! I drop Little Miss H off at school, plug in the sat nav and head straight to the hospital. I arrive and find my way to the correct department, despite the hospital being the size of a small country with colour coded buildings, (somewhat Balamory style) and fill in the necessary forms in order to start my pre-op ball rolling.

While I wait, I'm settled in a side waiting room which is lovely and plush (the hospital is new and swanky and still smells of fresh paint), however instead of my hero Matthew Wright (did I mention I've been on that show?) they have Jeremy Vile (Kyle) on the flat screen TV on the wall and to cap it all I'm too small to reach up and change the channel! Dear God it's hideous and after 10 mins I'm actually contemplating asking someone to change it for me, but just then another couple walk in to fill their forms out and they start watching it with verve! If I'm honest they look like they should be on the show so I don't complain and instead resort to Twitter and decide to keep my head down (but my boobs well and truly stuck out!).

So finally after a 25 minute Jeremy Kyle afflicted wait, including various DNA results, a full blown fight and Jeremy resorting to 'sitting ' on the step ! The lovely nurse Alison comes to rescue me.

Now, Alison is just wonderful, she’s friendly, kind, informative, efficient and speaks with the softest scouse accent known to man....I mean I'm still a Southerner deep down and even my pseudo Northerness can't cope with strong accents especially this early in the morning!

So my pre-op checks commence, I have blood tests, my BP taken and nose swabs and all is going great so far........but then it's time for the weigh in!

The time has come for me to face my fear, now Alison is a professional through and through but I can tell even she is getting pissed off at the amount of kerfuffle I am creating before agreeing to get on the scales. Ok she really doesn't need to be told repeatedly that we've just had Christmas, so that's the reason I may be slightly over the required BMI, nor does she need to stand around waiting for me to remove, coat, boots, cardigan, watch oh and I'm ashamed to say earrings. Only then to be told to hang on just two ticks whilst I go for a wee!  (well you never know, it might mean I weigh an ounce less ?) She shakes her head and with a wry smile throws a sample bottle in my direction, telling me to fill it and 'kill two birds with one stone'! Bless her she is so patient with me and even tells me that the machine measures height slightly on the short side so that's probably why my BMI is a teeny tiny bit over the limit. Mission accomplished, I vow to lose the 2lbs by Monday and she says no problem. She laughs and I very much hope it's with me and not at me?

I'm more settled now that the tests and checks are over and done with and we head back to the cosy little waiting room. We discuss in detail the plan for the day of admittance, the likely recovery time and I've been set the challenge of coming up with a 'cup' size that I want the surgeon to create! I'm not too sure how I'm going to decide on that but I'll think about it over the weekend. Although it will more than likely involve, fondling my closest friend’s breasts (this may also include any of my male friends with moobs)! and then deciding which ones I like the feel, shape and size of  best!

Hmm which ones shall I pick ????

Feeling happier, I was all set to disappear when Alison said that on my way out could I stop off at photography to have my photos taken? What? Was this some new security procedure whereby I need a photo id card to prove that I'm a patient? Sadly no, Alison explained that I needed to have photos of my boobs taken for the surgical team. Now any sane person would of course have realised this, I mean after all I've looked at hundreds of before and after pics of breast reductions on the Internet, so why did this come as quite the big surprise that it did?

Off I trotted up to the 3rd floor to 'photography', it's a proper department you know, with a reception, TV and even flowers! Again I was met by a very obliging hospital photographer, who just happened to be a man.  After reading my little yellow card which had BREAST REDUCTION stamped across it, he promptly rang for a chaperone (not sure whether that was for me or him!) As luck would have it, the angel Alison appeared before us and helped make light of my impending modelling shoot! Rather surprisingly and even more so terrifyingly, I discovered that the 'studio' was exactly that, a pucker set up, with lamps, umbrellas, a chair and a clinical looking screen which I had to go behind and strip down to my waist. All that was missing was a leopard skin throw, soft lighting and some mood music! At this point you’ll have to forgive me but I was beginning to wonder if I was taking part in some dodgy glamour shoot (although I'm far from glamorous)!

My only consolation during this hideous embarrassment was that the photographer seemed equally, if not more flustered by the whole episode and kept tripping over his words and repeatedly assuring me that at no point would my head be in the picture. To which I replied 'well what kind of a photographer are you if you keep cutting people’s heads off?!' It was a crap joke I know, but I just needed to divert the attention away from my NAKED BOOBS! That said, he was a pleasant enough bloke given the uncomfortableness of the occasion and even though it crossed my mind to ask if he did family portraits 'on the side’?, instead I quickly dressed, said a massive thank you to Alison (I actually hugged her?) and hurriedly left!

Reflecting back on the day... now with a smile, I can only look forward to my new boobs arriving soon. I have the weekend to prepare and shop around ready to order my brand new sparkly bangers on Monday and I won't deny that I'm a little excited as well as full of anticipation. I know it's a major operation but I'm ready and waiting and I'm hoping that my recovery will be uncomplicated and relatively quick. (hey, well I do have a ski trip booked in 8 weeks!)

So with a deep breath, I finally think I'm ready......well here goes ......! To be continued.....

It's as easy as ABC or DD,E,or F (cup) !

Jessica Rabbit or PoshBird ???

So I wasn't sure whether to write this post or not if I'm honest....but when I started blogging I did so as an outlet for me and also as a window for others to peek through into my life, for anyone who may be interested that is ?! So I suppose it is inevitable that I find myself writing the first part of what I’m lovingly referring to as my 'Boob Job Blog’!

Now straight away that sounds odd for me to say and type, but you see, it’s just that I’m actually just about to have a boob job! To be clear, it’s not implants as you may suspect and goodness knows they have been all over the news this week. Also I absolutely understand all the issues women with small boobs have and totally sympathise with how they feel. But no for me, I’m at the other extreme, I have 'big' boobs, well for my frame I do and that brings its own issues too.

You see I'm just under 5ft (I'm gutted, I was measured today) and I weigh in at 9st and a few lbs (that is, stark naked, first thing in the morning !) and my boobs are a cup size F ! So I think that it’s fair to say that whilst they are glorious, pendulous, attention grabbing and make fabulous pillows for the girls (and Mr Poshbird) to rest their weary heads on; they are also back achingly heavy and bloody hard work to lug around.

I also love to run and I've been known to run half marathons, 10ks and the odd 2.2 mile around my village. However this isn't easy for me and also apparently can’t be done without causing extreme toe curling embarrassment for Miss C, whose 16yr old lad mates, often remark that they've seen me out jogging! All this, coupled with the fact that 6 months ago a Dr friend of mine kindly pointed out to me that my spine was curving and that the shoulder and neck pain that I've had for many years was probably due to my wondrous 'bangers' , well I decided to seek the advice of my local GP. If I'm totally honest I didn't have any expectations about receiving a breast reduction on the NHS, after all it's not life threatening, or particularly that serious, although to me it would be life changing in many ways and hopefully reduce my back, neck and shoulder pain....oh and of course having small boobs will enable me to run even faster!

It’s funny, but I've always been self conscious of the size of my boobs and have spent years trying to choose clothes that hide them, wearing minimiser bras and the like, but all they do is squash your boobs under your armpits, which is not the most attractive of looks ! And while I know my boobs are the envy of many a less well endowed lady, I've now kind of worn tired of them; and I mean both physically and emotionally tired ! They've served me well I guess, they helped me snare Mr Poshbird and I've breastfed my two daughters successfully with them but now these monstrosities simply have to go! I want the perky, pert, bouncy boobs I was meant to have and I want them NOW!

So after my initial assessment, my GP referred me to see a specialist and to my utter amazement the consultant at the local hospital said I fitted all the criteria. Right weight, non smoker and I have been treated for back related problems, oh and of course I do have gigantic boobs, so operation ‘breast reduction’ was a goer!

Anyway, all this all took place back in September last year and we joked in the Poshbird household that I'd have my new boobs for Christmas and also my 40th Birthday...well looks they'll be a little late, but hey who in reality wants an operation to interfere with the Christmas drinking and partying scene anyway!

So here I am, about to embark on a life changing and scary set of events. To some they may seem trivial but to me it’s so important. This morning was 'pre op' day and having been busy the last month I hadn't really thought too much about the up and coming procedure. Needless to say the pre op wasn't quite what I had expected and I’ll share that with you in my next post. But in spite of this I tend to see the humour in most situations, I find it helps to lighten ones life's experiences!

To Be Continued....