 |
|
|
                |
The Perfect Woman? - continued (page 3 of 3) The next day-after dropping off Christine and buying a huge quantity of tulips to festoon our hotel room-I spent the morning at the medical facility pacing nervously, the cliche of an expectant father. After a very long hour and a half, Dr. Barnett came bustling out. "She's doing great," he assured me. "No bleeding, no problems. I just have to run upstairs to get a D bra. I thought she'd be a very full C cup, but it looks like a 38D instead." He paused at the door and said, "I think you'll be happy with her size." Did he wink when he said that? Shortly after, the nurse allowed me to see Christine in recovery. She was groggy from anesthesia, but lifted her gown to show me her new bustline. I stared in disbelief. They were-there's no other word for it-huge. And quite beautiful. In the months that followed, we felt like new parents, giddily cooing over our new twins and attending to their care. We took frequent shopping trips to add to Christine's new wardrobe, fascinated at how her clothes curved around her new body. Christine's breast also kicked our sex life into overdrive. I had worried a bit that they might feel more like artificial sex toys than real, voluptuous breast, but except for the valve-which I could feel once in a while if the implant rolled into a certain position they felt surprisingly natural and looked fantastic. Christine was equally pleased. Her confidence about her body had blossomed and vastly improved her self-esteem. Our dream woman had been born. But that wasn't the end of it. With time, Christine's libido settled down to normal. But mine stayed stuck in high gear-and we had trouble coping with the difference. I couldn't turn down my desire. I loved her new breasts so much that I unconsciously started touching them more than the rest of her. Without meaning to, I'd hurt her feelings. Also, throughout the time that Christine and I planned her augmentation, a new closeness and commitment developed between us. But this spawned an unexpected burden. Now she wondered whether my love had developed because of my fascination with her new breasts. More than once during a fight she exclaimed, "You're only with me because of my tits!" Ironically, her breast enlargement cured her of one insecurity, only to introduce another. Moreover, her sexuality, so amplified on the visual plane, made a huge impression on other people. Doors started to open for Christine everywhere she went-suddenly there were job opportunities, invitations to parties, and general interest in having her around. Not the least of that interest came from other guys. Men know when an extraordinary female physique is on the premises. They become silent or goofily animated, or they sprout dorsal fins and begin circling for the kill. Common attack modes for the male breast-shark include the frontal hug-rub, and taking a woman's arm in conversation and trying to feel the side of her breast. Men will flirt with Christine in front of my face, or call her up when I'm out of town. Her desirability has increased tenfold, and she has had to deal with the increased harassment. But I've had to pay a price too. I now know what it would be like to date a supermodel-always wondering on some level, how long she will by ours, how long it will take for someone more impressive than you to come along and whisk her away. I do confess to getting a perverse thrill when I see how startled women are by Christine's 38D figure. She will enter a room or remove her coat or stand up in a restaurant, and the conversation among nearby women will abruptly go dead, like a lost phone connection. They stare, shake themselves out of it, turn back to their dinner companions, and try to play it cool. And when men are around, other women tense up and close ranks, acutely aware of the high competition. Neither of us knew exactly what we were getting into when we started this journey, though neither of us would change a thing now-Christine says that removing her implants would feel like a mastectomy. But one of the ironies is that although breast augmentation is a thoroughly modern technological marvel, the results are in some ways thoroughly old-fashioned. The truths we supposedly hold to be self-evident these days-that appearances are unimportant, that self-esteem can come only from within, that advanced men and women have risen above the tyrannies of gender stereotypes-are only partly true. Even today, large breasts on a beautiful woman are enough to turn the politest society into the wild kingdom.
|
|
|
Breast
Augmentation Home | Resources
| Find a Plastic Surgeon |
