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The last few weeks I have been steadily riding the hormone roller coaster. Maybe steadily isn’t the best choice of wording.

Last week I felt like a sardine in a shark tank. This week, thanks to the red river, I feel like a shark in a goldfish bowl. Stay out of my personal space or you will get bit.

I’m surprised by how much I hate men today considering I can count the number of men I know and haven’t slept with on one hand.

I’m a big whore.

Mostly, today I’m mad at the man who gave me my botched boob job, then (metaphorically) laughed in my face when I asked him to fix it.

It all started in May of 2010. I was 29 years old and just finished several months of breast feeding my second child. My milk dried up and with it went my beautiful, perky, C cups. I was left with two saggy, pouches of skin I  lovingly  referred to as my “flat jacks”.

So I did what any self-aware, saggy titted, mother of two would do, I got a boob job.

I started by going online and researching. Then I went to consultations. I found a doctor that was the.nephew of the retired doctor who had done a friends implants. Dr. M.

Good enough for me!

Dr. M was not the cheapest but he talked the talk and made me feel comfortable.

I make horrible decisions when it comes to men. Even if they are doctors.

I set my appoint date. I took out a loan. I had my blood tests ran.

Finally my big day came. I was happier than a homeless man finding a twenty!

My friend, Katy, picked me up that morning and took me to the surgery center. She waited until I was wheeled into surgery to leave. She wished me luck and told me to call her when I was released and she would pick me up and drive me home.

A few hours after surgery I awoke. I noticed a male nurse in the room reading my chart.

“How are you feeling?” He asked me.

“OK.” I said. “I need to call Katy.”

He looked at me a little shocked.

“Oh dear. You already called Katy, honey. You don’t remember?”

“No……”

“Yes, you called her right up about ten minutes ago. You told her you had ‘rocket tits’!” He exclaimed with a giggle before walking out of the room.

This was worse than waking up at the dentists office with a boner!

I turned red with embarrassment. Katy confirmed this phone call on the ride home.

The next day I had a follow up appointment with Dr. M. He took off the bandages and checked the  stitches. Everything looked great. Just as I was leaving the office he stopped me,

“Give me a high five!” He said and put his hand up.

I looked at him confused.

“What? You don’t remember high-fiving me after surgery yesterday?”

GULP

“I checked on you in the recovery room yesterday. You told me I did a great job and high-fived me! You don’t remember?” He asked, laughing his ass off.

“Nope. This is why I shouldn’t drink either.” I said before walking out the door.

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A few months went by and my left breast started to get hard. Not only was it firmer but it started to hurt. I made an appointment with Dr.M. He told me I had a capsular contracture and that massage would surely fix the problem.

Not normal massage. I was to apply a horrific amount of pressure on this baby several times a day. Though it eventually got softer it became lumpy and the pain worsened.

After a year of dealing with the contracture I noticed the right one had started to drop. I remember waking up one morning and looking in the mirror.

Thats when I noticed it for the first time.

Ripples. My right breast was now rippled like the ocean current.

So, I did what any freaked out person coming to the reality their bob job was fucked up would do. I took pictures and sent them along with a letter to Dr. M. Then I sent the same pictures to an attorney.

Dr. M saw me right away. He told me the ripples in righty were my fault for losing the rest of the baby weight.

I reminded Dr. M that upon original consultation, I had told him I would be losing the baby weight. His response at the time was, “Women statistically keep on ten pounds per child so you can expect to be twenty pounds heavier than you used to be.”

Dr. M ignored this. He then told me lefty was my fault too because my body rejected the implant.

“We should definitely fix the contracture in your left breast. Have the ripples in your right breast been bothering you?”

HE SERIOUSLY ASKED ME THIS!

Now, I don’t know what planet Dr. M attained his medical license on, but here on earth tits are ROUND.

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In that case, Dr. M would be happy to fix both. For the small fee of $8000. This is just $2000 more than the original, botched job and $4000 more than I currently owe on my loan.

I contacted my attorney. As it turns out the shape of my tits is not considered malpractice because it’s cosmetic. Maybe some people find lumpy, square, ripply hooters attractive. I wasn’t sick from it, you can’t physically see lefty’s pain and I was just a month shy of the two year deadline, I didn’t have a case.

To this day, my tits are still fucked up.

Anyway, you know, christmas is coming up….if anyone is feeling generous. I’ll sit on your lap.

One thought on “What Is The Square Tit Of $8000?

  1. Recently I admitted to no one in particular that nothing says ‘welcome home for the holidays’ like the comfort of cleavage. Headlights are meant to shine the way there and back again without lighting the neighbors yard and starry night.

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