In the final instalment of Jacky's breast augmentation journey at Blooming, she reveals her results and shares how the experience has affected her confidence and quality of life. After going from an A cup to a C cup, Jacky reflects on her decision, the recovery process, and how she feels now that she has achieved her desired outcome. Her story offers an honest and personal account that will resonate with anyone considering breast augmentation surgery.
Janneke shares her experience of the recovery period, reactions, and her conclusions. Was this really what she wanted?
My colleague Peter stares at me. First he takes in my face. Then my breasts, buttocks, legs, and then my breasts again. 'Gosh,' he says. 'You look great. I didn't know that quitting smoking had the side effect of giving you bigger breasts.' When I later attend a check-up with Dr. Paris Melis, he remarks that he finds this striking. 'Most people around you who don't know you that well haven't noticed at all that anything has changed about your breasts. Provided, of course, that you continue to dress in roughly the same way.' Colleague Peter is apparently an exception. After the operation, I resolutely decided to quit smoking after ten years. With the motto: you want to do something in return for your body. Most acquaintances and colleagues swallow this explanation without question to account for the extra kilos (apparently it makes no visual difference whether you have a larger bottom or larger breasts?). Only Peter isn't fooled.
Lost in thought, I remove my white sports bra. It is the first time since the operation that Dr. Melis sees my breasts, and I am very curious to hear his verdict. Of course, you want nothing more than for your breasts to be the most beautiful the clinic has ever produced and to serve as an example for all the ladies who follow.
In complete calm, Dr. Melis examines the final result: left, right, front, beneath. After an agonising silence, he delivers his verdict. 'Absolutely,' he nods with satisfaction. 'They've turned out beautifully!' The skin is still a little taut (goodness!), but according to him that is perfectly normal. Things simply need a bit of time to stretch and settle. But the recovery is progressing more than smoothly overall. 'Are you happy with them yourself?' he asks. And am I ever! Now that Dr. Melis has confirmed the success of my operation, I could shout with joy. And that euphoric and proud feeling only grows larger with every passing week.
Thank god, because the first days after the operation were characterised by pain. A great deal of pain. An enormous amount of pain. All-consuming pain. Of course, all for a good cause. And those who want to look beautiful must endure some suffering. I understand that perfectly well. But being forced to sleep on your back for weeks on end — in an unglamorous sports bra that must protect everything against unexpected movements and all other manner of harm — really is no pleasure. And on top of that, everything still hurts despite all these precautions.
Painkillers
Painkillers are an absolute necessity in the first few days. On top of that, strangely enough, there is an obsessive urge to thoroughly inspect my new assets roughly every ten minutes. Dr. Melis had already warned me that all women scrutinise their new additions more critically than ever. Beforehand I thought this was nonsense. Surely at that moment you are simply happy to finally have larger breasts? But once again Dr. Melis turns out to be right. Because, I ask my partner Sander, were they already that uneven before? They won't stay this high up on my chest, will they? And those scars are very visible. Will that stay like this?
After a few weeks, however, things start to settle as promised, the swelling subsides, the skin becomes less taut, and the scars are no longer so red and swollen. It is also the period when I finally find out my new cup size: 75C! I am overjoyed. With every breast augmentation you simply have to wait and see what size you end up with at 280 cc. That differs from person to person. 75C suits me perfectly. Whereas I used to cut the 75A labels out of my bras, I now happily leave them in.
Gradually all the clichés also prove true: I stand up straighter, feel more feminine, and have been showering with the light on again for the first time in ten years. Before the operation I was not a sorry figure, but I do notice that I smile more often now. Getting dressed and undressed, for example, automatically produces a smile. Choosing an outfit is no longer a struggle. In fact, it has become one of the most enjoyable moments of the day. Everything suits me. And that naturally begins with lingerie. I am now a regular customer at Hunkemöller and the lingerie department of de Bijenkorf (75C is so often out of stock, by the way!). And besides five new bikinis, fitted V-neck T-shirts, dresses with a neckline, and strapless clothing have suddenly become part of my wardrobe as well.
My first visit to the beach is a chapter in itself. When I wake up I feel childishly happy. Like putting out your shoe for Sinterklaas and checking first thing in the morning to see if anything has been left behind. I try on all my new bikinis and tops endlessly, eventually settling on the grey top with the white floral-print bikini underneath. I! Am! Sexy! At last. The top comes off immediately upon arrival, of course. And on the beach I am the one fetching drinks all day and parading from the sun lounger to the bar just a little too often. My half-bared breasts attract attention for the first time in 31 years — or am I only just noticing it now? It is remarkably not only men, but especially women who cast a glance at my neckline. And whereas I used to have a sunburnt back at the end of the day, I am now evenly tanned. My partner Sander is also delighted with the new assets. So delighted, in fact, that he would gladly tell the checkout girl at Albert Heijn what has happened in his — or rather, my — life. This occasionally leads to the necessary discussion. Because yes, I am happy to tell people I have new breasts, but only the people I choose to tell.
So one day — much to my great surprise — my mother-in-law is sitting on the sofa with flushed cheeks and a copy of Jackie magazine when I get home. But it is nowhere near as embarrassing as I had imagined in advance — that the whole world would be talking about me. In fact, the girlfriends who were fiercely opposed beforehand suddenly start to see the benefits of plastic surgery after their own pregnancies.
And then: our sex life. Because naturally you want to know about that too. Let me state upfront: that was already perfectly fine. You can have great sex with small breasts, whatever the pornography industry would have you believe. But honestly: it does get a boost. At first we laugh about it — it is rather odd when suddenly a girl sits on top of you with such assets. But then the real enjoyment begins. Because the bottom line is, of course, that I now have more self-confidence. And that makes all sex better. I am freer, take the initiative more often, and after we finish I no longer quickly pull the covers over myself, but happily walk around undressed.
All in all — five months after my operation — we can confidently say that my life has improved significantly. Better clothes, a freer sex life, lovely days at the beach, hurray. Note: my character has not done a 180. I still make the same terrible jokes, I still can't cook, I haven't suddenly acquired a new group of friends with antisocial types on mopeds (I already had one, that moped), and I haven't swapped Sander for a broad-shouldered bloke in a Hummer. And I haven't suddenly become a great advocate of having your body altered at every opportunity. But to the girl on the beach who keeps her jumper on in 26-degree heat because she is ashamed of her small breasts, I would say: give it some serious thought. Because — and this is the last cliche in this story — I now think too: I wish I had done this ten years earlier. Honestly.
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Want to read Part 2? Click here