I honestly don't remember the first time that I had the idea to get a boob job. I knew at a young age that my breasts were not growing like the other girls, it's like something just stopped before it was supposed to. I have a very distinct memory of looking down at my chest at about 14 and thinking "Why don't they look like breasts?" My right breast didn't fill out on the bottom, the left one was ok but it is kind of hard to just dress one boob. From that point on I was never happy with my chest. When I found out that there was a way to fix it, it sounded perfect even when I learned that it would be painful and expensive. To be comfortable with my own body, to not feel like every man I came in contact with saw me as less than, to not feel like your worth as a woman was constantly in question felt worth it to me.

I knew from the start it would be a long road to even begin to be an option for me; honestly I didn't think it would ever happen. So for years I just dealt with it, always wearing at least two or more layers, push-up bras, never taking off my bra in front of anyone. That was my way. If no one knew, then no one could use it against me.

I got pregnant with my daughter when I was 19 and I thought for sure that, like all the research says is best, I would breastfeed her as long as possible. Even if they didn't look nice biologically, this was what they were made for, right? I tried everything. I used special ointments, I got a hospital grade breast pump to stimulate milk production. In the hospital a special lactation nurse came in and told me that because of the shape of my right breast it would be more difficult to produce the amount of milk needed to feed my baby; hearing that just about crushed my soul.

I do not know if there is a worse feeling in the world than looking at your newborn and feeling like, nay, knowing that your body is failing her, in the most basic way possible. I only got to breast feed her (with supplemental formula) for two months. It was heartbreaking.

I met my now husband when my little girl was about 4 months old. At the time I did not expect him to become the most important man in my life, but I knew there was something different about him. From the very beginning I felt connected to him, like I never was with anyone else before or since. I was instantly comfortable with him, like I had known him forever. The first time we met in person, after months of phone conversations and constant texts, I was nervous for him to see my chest, afraid that if would ruin everything, but he made it seem like it was no big deal, even making me feel sexy which was completely foreign to me.

When I first mentioned wanting a boob job his response was something like "Why? You don't need a boob job, I love your boobs." To which I responded that he may love them, but I did not. For awhile that was the end of it, then I started bringing it up casually. If we were watching a show I would point and go "Oh, I want boobs like those!"

Eventually, he told me that, if that was what I really wanted, then he would support me. I was ecstatic but I also knew, at the time, it was still a long way off. Flash-forward to right before Christmas (and also my birthday) of 2012. He comes in from work and says, "I want you to make an appointment with the boobie doctor" I didn't know what to say at first. When I did find my voice again, I said "Why? We can't afford it, and it would only get my hopes up" he then told me that he thought he found a way to make it work and had been saving all year to make it possible. I was blown away. I never thought that someone could ever care about me enough to do something even close to that for me, but here I was looking at this wonderful man who had saved in secret all year just to make me happy.

We went to that first appointment together. I was a jumble of emotions, excitement of course, but also scared and nervous. I got to try different sizes and see the different types available. At first, I really liked the doctor. He was kind and seemed knowledgeable, so when he told me that I would need a breast lift with the augmentation, and that it would double the price, I was sad but accepting. He also told me I would need to quit smoking. As we left the office, I broke down, crying to my now husband in the elevator, thinking that was the kiss of death for my dream.

Now you might be thinking "She cried over boobs? Seriously?" But yes I did and it was not the first nor would it be the last, for me its deeper than boobs and I know that seems silly to most, but as most women in today's society, your personal worth is closely tied to your body image, and mine was severely damaged from a young age, but I digress. At that moment my fiance looked at me and said, "Whatever you want to, do we will make it happen."

I stopped smoking on February 28th and my surgery was planned for 10 weeks later. I went in two weeks before my surgery for my pre-op appointment only to be told that I still had nicotine in my system. So, I went back home and continued on my path, I was right on the limit of it staying in your system, so I wasn't super surprised. I was going to school at this time and missing a week just wasn't possible. So, I waited until my next school break about three months later. Queue the next time I would cry over boobs. If you have been following along and catching a sense for my luck, you are probably ahead of me here in guessing. I was turned down again, same as last time. I was told there was STILL nicotine in my system. That day I was also belittled by a doctor that I trusted who thought I would (knowing they would test me) lie about not smoking, which was literally one of the hardest things I have ever had to give up.

After that I was no longer comfortable with him as my doctor. I went about finding another one. I went to a new one about five months later, but didn't really feel comfortable there either, nothing against that doctor just not for me.

I heard an advertisement on the radio for my doctor, and was almost stopped in my tracks when they said they offer a "Rapid Recovery Program" and that I would only have to miss one day of work. I thought to myself "That can't be right, they told me a full week" I made an appointment the next week.