THE DEFIANT ACT OF OWNING UP TO YOUR PLASTIC SURGERY

Two days ago, I went to see my friend, Dr. Oren Tepper, for a breast lift and a fat transfer. I’d known that I needed my boobs fixed for about four years. But I kept putting it off, because I actually loathe surgery.

It was the fat globule under my chin that finally pushed me over the edge.

For about a year, I tried all the lasers, creams, and micro-needlings available. Nothing seemed to work. I kept telling Oren that he needed to use a straw and just suck it out on his lunch break. He ignored me for a good six months, but eventually I wore him down.

We took some 3D images in his office to prove I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t. I had suckable fat, and I wanted it sucked! While I was there, I decided that it was finally time to fix the lopsided breast lift that I’d done during the pandemic.

(This is actually the more flattering side. But that little fat pocket made me insane.)

In 2020, my implants were almost drinking age and needed to be replaced. At the time, I wanted to avoid having the full lollipop scar running down my boob, so the doctor (not Oren) tried tightening my breast with a nipple cinch. In theory, this sounded ideal, but in practice, not so much.