If I Could Squat My Boobs... I Would


I've wanted a boob job since I was about 13. Not cos I want Pamela Anderson boobs. But cos at 10 years old I had bigger boobs than now (cos I was tubby) & at puberty I lost weight & consequently, boob, drastically. This meant I was left with (what the doc called) tubular boobs. & as he liked to point out "some cultures find these boobs rather attractive" ah yes. I'm sure they do... But having boobs that sag despite being small & feeling like I have golf balls at the end of a sock, never gave me the up most confidence...

Now being faced with something so blatantly in a juxtaposition between what I preach & what I feel makes sense to me, has caused a lot of thinking...

So here I am, thinking, out load, or on paper, well on screen anyhoot. 

So how do you justify getting something so cosmetic done, that is clearly for aesthetic purposes when what you preach, believe in, champion, is all about loving who you are, being enough and worthy and loving the skin you are in already. Because lets face it, if you have been around my Instagram for more than 5 minutes you will see, that's what I bang on about. A lot! 

It's a bit like my body image view point about weight... Don't get into the fitness lifestyle just to look good naked. Don't make it about a number on the scale and do not for one second think living (with the body you think you want) will make you happier than a My Little Pony eating rainbow glitter balls. 

Chasing this will NOT make you happy. Making progress, being proud of your achievements, seeing your hard work pay off... they all do make you feel great. They add to your happiness for sure. But standing in the mirror and seeing the body you thought you wanted, does not come with a pot full of joy. That bit. That takes work... That takes years of mindfullness, mindsettiing, patience, ups, downs, highs, lows until you have a familiar feeling of acceptance. 

Here's the thing with boobs. I cannot work on them, make progress with them. I can not use progressive overload on the flesh that has detached itself from my muscles and hangs in a tubular like fashion. Oh boy, if I could, Id be squatting these bad boys like there is no tomorrow, because nothing feels as good as seeing your hard work pay off. 

But also, like I see my weight/body image, it's the same thing... I am not getting a boob job to look good naked. I look pretty OK naked already. 9I worked for that and I am not embarrassed to admit it) This isn't about a number in my bra strap. I don't care to be a 34 HHHHjjbjbvdkjebvv... I'm a 32/B and I am quite happy to remain a 32B, if I wanted to go bigger, that's OK too, but I am not solely focused on this number and what I think it will mean to me. And lastly, I will not be under any illusions that a boob job will make me a happy My Little Pony. I already am one. Unless I am due on my period, or hangry, or walking behind someone really slow down Oxford street, then minus those occasions, I am quite content with my life, my body and who I am, what I look like and how I feel in my skin.

Then why get a boob job then? Ahhhh well that is the question I keep repeating to myself. WHY? What is the point if your so bloody happy Fanni ay? Really why bother? 

I am still typing without an immanent answer cos I really am not sure, hence the reschedule and hence why I am sharing, and also whenever I say hence I always think of Joey from friends... (if you know, you know) I guess my reasons lie here... I know it will not bring me happiness, but it will enhance my day to day life by being able to fill a bra properly. To be able to wear a triangle cut bikini top without it looking like I have saggy cones in them, to be able to wear a top without a bra and not see my boobs pointing to my shoes, to be able to lean over and not feel like they might dangle in the Biance's face in a very floppy eared fashion. To feel that the way I feel in my skin matches the way it may feel to hold the new boobs. To feel confident in my shape without the niggle of the droop that catches my eye. I think it will enhance my figure yes. I am bottom heavy and love my butt and thighs. I would like to feel the proportions match and feel as shapely as I have made myself on my fitness journey. 

And all these reasons are aesthetics. They are about how I look, making me feel a certain way, but I guess all I can say is that I feel a certain way already and would love that to reflect in how I look. Perky, upbeat, on top of the world. Not droopy, lifeless and down trodden lol. 

But here I am, quite a blog post in and I am still here unable to convince myself it is the best idea, which means no boob job until I am sure. I have been sure for 19 years and then this last year, I fell inlove with myself, and it's a bit like the Biance saying to me that he was gonna go under the knife to change something about him. Id be like "noooo, I love you the way you are." And I hear myself repeating it to me all the time lately. "Don't do it, your enough, you are great just the way you are". BUT, I also feel strongly that I would support the Biance if he fltl it was something he wanted to do. 

The take home, before embarking on that diet, buying that new dress, getting a boob job, is this... know, deep in your soul that it will not buy you happiness, BUT it may enhance your life in ways that perhaps someone won't get. They don't have to. IT IS NOT FOR THEM! I don't wear make up to appease other people, I wear it to enhance my face on the occasion as it's fun and I love expressing myself and I feel creative when I do. And no, boobs won't show my creativity, accept perhaps if I am being creative in the cold, but they will just be an add on to who I already am. Like boobs I always felt were mine, and finally found me. I wouldn't be anyone different, my values will still remain the same, but I will have the boobs that were meant to be mine before bad muscle fibres and gravity won. 

So until someone builds a "boob curl/hack boob, smith breast machine" dury's out. 

I will no doubt keep you updated via Instagram, so for now, adios and I shall see you over in the teeny square boxes where I share my life, my butt, opinions and lack of perky boobies.