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Ever since I was little, I’ve wanted a boob job. Actually, that’s not exactly true. I’ve always wanted big boobs. Something about them just seemed so beautiful to me (and pretty much everyone else in all of our society). I realize that’s a weird, vain, and all-around embarrassing thing to admit to wanting, but whatever. At this point, any shame I have is long gone.
When I played with my dolls, I pictured the day that I, too, could wear skimpy, revealing outfits and get free coffee from dumbstruck baristas. Even young Rachel was dreaming big. So, I eagerly awaited puberty, consuming Judy Blume books and willing my tits to catch up with my ever-growing hips.
You know how this ends. They never caught up.
I’m not sure if it’s genetic, if it’s because I went through a clichéd eating disorder phase or what, but my boobs just never really fully came in. I mean, they’re here. Don’t get me wrong. They’re out and about. I know I could have it worse. I get to sidestep the As and head over to the solid B section where girls like me buy the most padded bras possible to look like we’re rocking some womanly curves.
The thing is, however, since the knockers I always knew I was supposed to have never really came in, I’ve been faced with the ever-popular question: Should I get a boob job?
It’s a question that has been plaguing me for years (and years and years). I’ve tried to will myself for what feels like ever to work up the courage and go under the knife. And now, after years of wishing, saving, and Pinning pictures of Scarlett Johansson’s boobs on my secret “Boob Job” Pinterest board, I’m actually at a point where I could make it happen. Still, I understand that it’s a big decision with lots of risks and blah blah blah. So, I give you, The Great Boob Job Debate. Because nothing makes you more confused about what you really want quite like a solid pro-con list posted on the internet for all to see.
Arguments Against Getting A Boob Job
The Whole “Self Love” Thing
In today’s society, self-love is all the rage. From the moment you have your morning shit and scroll, you see Instagram post after Instagram post urging people to love themselves for all of their little faults. Being *~wHo yOu ArE~* (as long as it’s still relatively attractive and you have a solid social following) is truly so hot rn. Would getting work done make me weak in the eyes of society/social? Should I just suck it up and live my life a smaller boobed gal?
I’m A Baby Back Bitch When It Comes To Pain
I pass out at the sight of a needle. Hell, I sometimes pass out over the thought of a needle. I constantly have Ibuprofen in my vicinity because I’m prone to headaches and other ailments (my liver must be so destroyed). Pain is not my friend. Hell, pain isn’t even a tolerable visiter. The second I’m in the slightest bit of discomfort, I take over-the-counter meds and complain until everyone I love leaves me to wallow in my own grief.
But I Hate Hardcore Pain Meds
I never understand how people can love intense pain medication. Seriously. After popping tons of Hydrocodone post ankle surgery, I realize that it is, in fact, the devil. Besides the fact that it made me agonizingly nauseous, it blocked me up so much, I didn’t shit for almost a week. It was a form of torture I wouldn’t wish on anyone.* Remember what I said about complaining?
It’s Expensive AF
Whoever decided that getting invasive, non-emergency, cosmetic surgery would not only be expensive but also not covered by insurance is a dick. I mean, no, I don’t technically need bigger boobs to live, but without them, what kind of existence do I even have?
What If It Gets Fucked Up?
There’s a reason everyone doesn’t get plastic surgery. Well, besides the financial costs, moral reasons, and general taboo-ness of it — it’s because there’s a risk. Not that you’ll die (even though I’m sure that’s the case), but that you’ll come out looking like a freak which is, in my opinion, worse than death. A Michael Jackson nose or Regina George’s mom’s tits could be the result if I don’t find the right doc who knows his/her way around a bosom. Worse than that, what if I go through all of the pain and money, only to realize that I actually *am* beautiful ~just the way I am?~ Then what? I can’t just shell out another few grand to have them remove the fun bags. Or what if they look horrible after I have children? Or if I finally lose that last 10 pounds I’ve been working on for 6 months. What then? It’s just bananas.
It’s Awkward
I mean, I’m an open book. I’m writing about it on the internet. It’s not exactly like I plan to keep this quiet. And while I’m fine with people knowing, there are a few people I’d be a little uncomfortable around. Like my brothers, or my dad, or any male I have ever worked or come in contact with. We all know it’s happened, we all know it’s different, and yet none of us will be able to acknowledge it. Talk about a DD elephant in the room.
Arguments For Getting A Boob Job
I’m (Somewhat) Financially Capable
Okay, so, that might be a stretch. But I’m not drowning in the debt that I was once, and I have decent savings for the future. If there was ever a time that I could do this without absolutely ruining my financial future, it’s now. I’m not saying it’s a smart, fiscally responsible decision. But I also won’t have to take out another credit card and the collections agencies wouldn’t be pounding on my apartment door, so I consider that somewhat of a win.
I’ve Wanted It For A Longgggg Time
I mean, do we need to get into this again? Barbies. Judy Blume. Saving pictures of ScarJo. You get it.
I’ll Look Better
Hey, that’s just the truth of it. I’ll fill out clothes better, my hip to waist to tit ratio will be better, and I’ll be able to wear things that I couldn’t really before. And that’s not to say I can’t technically now. I’m a strong, independent woman who can wear whatever she wants and whatever. Calm down, haters. It’s just, I’ve always dreamed of being one of those bitches at the beach who have awesome boobs in their bikinis and can rock backless, deep plunge dresses and still have ample cleavage. That, to me, is beautiful.
I Have The Ability To Be Happier
If you could feel hotter, happier, and more confident, why the fuck wouldn’t you want to do it? It’s the same reason people get veneers, or braces, or haircuts, or lose weight, or get their fucking toes waxed. It makes them feel more attractive, which gives them that boost to take on the world. If everyone just “accepted themselves for who they were” we would all be fat, pimply, hairy monsters and like, two people would be naturally blonde. So like, I’m not buying it.
It’s Soley For Me
I’m lucky that despite my mediocre-at-best self-esteem, I have plenty of people who constantly shower me with affirmations. I don’t mean you guys. You all keep me in check. Thanks for that. I mean my mom, my SO, my best friend, and so on. Time and time again, they remind me that I’m *gag* ~beautiful just the way I am.~ And while I love that message, it only digs my point in further. I’m not considering this for anyone else. My mom isn’t like “How’s membership in the IBTC going?” and my mans never says he wishes my modest 34Bs suddenly grew three sizes. This would be for me and me alone. Even though, yeah, my guy isn’t exactly complaining about the idea.
I Don’t Want To Wait Until I’m Old
I feel like this is always the caveat. “Fine, get work done, but wait until after you have kids.” Which totally makes sense, by the way. After I pop out a few little Gremlins, my body will absolutely go to the dogs. My stomach will look like a deflated balloon, my tits will be at my knees, and my vagina will probably prolapse. Nice image, right? And while it makes sense to want to wait to get work done until after going into that hellish battle, it just seems like a lame excuse. I don’t want to start living the life I was meant to live until after I have kids. Who knows when that will be? Why would I want to wait to feel like my hottest self until I’m like, 40 when I could do it at 26?
Why The Fuck Not?
I mean, hey, that’s truly what it all comes down to. It doesn’t matter that my mom cried begging me not to, or that I’m sure many people will comment saying it’s dumb. The truly awesome part about this is that, ultimately, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. What makes it absolutely amazing is the fact that I have the right to not only want to change something about myself but the ability to make it happen. And if there was ever anything beautiful in the world, it’s that. Well, that and the 34DDs I’m going to rock post-op. They’ll be pretty sweet too..
*That’s not true. I’d obviously wish severe constipation on some people, like Hitler, or my ex.
Respond
Rachel Varina
if it doesn't have snack or seats, i'm not there. hate mail/Sunny references can be sent to itsrachelvarina@gmail.com
@rachelvarina
@rachelvarina
Maybe I’m in the minority here but I prefer any shape/size/direction of natural boobs to artificial ones, it’s all about the butt after all. Keep it natural ladies, if your man doesn’t appreciate your A’s, give me a call.
I prefer A’s and B’s over the larger variety. My parents’ obsession with my grades may have something to do with it.
Agreed. There is no debate here. Natural is best, but if a boob job makes the woman happy, then fake ones are great too.
Moral of the story: all boobs are good boobs, as long as the owner is happy.
Not single but giving you a hypothetical “sup?”
I’m going to second this. The variety of all sizes, shapes, etc of natural boobs is a beautiful thing. Us men should appreciate it all. However, if you are going to get a boob job go all out and get some serious knockers. Get your money’s worth!
Very much agree. Just like there are beautiful women of all shapes and sizes, natural boobies are beautiful any way they come. I’d also argue natural Bs are more fun to play with than fake Ds. The consistency just isn’t there.
congrats on 2nd base.
Felt just like a bag of sand
Maybe yes, maybe no… but I’ve never turned down the opportunity to find out for myself.
As a counterpoint, big boobs are tight. Even if they’re fake, they’re still real because I can feel them. End o’ story
Exactly. Keep that butt tight and we gucc.
Nah. Maybe I’m in the minority but I’m all about the fake.
Agreed, stay natural. Fake ones are jarring and look…Well fake and unnatural.
From a guy’s perspective, going with a nice reasonable pair of bolt ons is always the move. However, if you’re going for some ridiculous chest watermelons….that’s awesome too.
Your euphemism game is incredibly strong.
Fiance did it for herself. But fringe benefits are phenomenal.
Nice.
We’ll need to see some before and after pics to fully evaluate the decision.
If it makes you feel better and you want it I don’t see why not. I lost like 120 pounds in college and have debated for 10 years on getting some work on the waist to fix some loose skin that won’t tighten after countless exercise. Nothing too bad like 600 pound life shit, but it’s psychological. I say go for it.
If you can see ’em and feel ’em, they are real.
Was flat chested af. Got a boob job. Not huge…just large natural looking ones — 34AA to 34D(go to a good plastic surgeon and he/she will know what looks best). Best money ever spent. Clothes look better. They’re not so ridiculous that I always look like a whore, but also very capable of making that look happen. Pain wasn’t unbearable. It’s not as awkward to talk about as you think (people quit thinking about it once it’s not new). Did it for me, I don’t care if people think natural is better.
“People quit thinking about it once it’s not new”
No we don’t.
Fair…people quit *asking* about it
Sup?
I’ll warn you right now that big boobs SUCK. I mean, I sometimes love how they look, but they’re such a pain in the ass that it’s not worth it. I can’t jog (or do anything active) without a super restrictive sports bra because the bouncing is straight up painful. I can’t find button downs that fit both my waist and my chest. I can’t get away with a lot of cute, low cut shirts because they look straight up pornographic on me. I would not pay thousands of dollars for this nonsense. But that’s just my opinion, you do you.
Also I can’t wear any backless or weird cut dresses/tanks because going braless isn’t an option 🙁
Well I would never make you wear a bra around me, amber.
You are too kind <3
Chivalry isn’t dead after all <3
Second ALL of this. Even going over a large pothole in a car can be painful. Although, I’m pretty sure the BF has started doing this on purpose for the periph jiggle.
Not to mention the bras get much more expensive, and less cute.
In the wise words of my hero: “Au naturel, baby. That’s how I like them. Swing low, sweet chariots. “
But IMO I’m a boob guy, and Bs are a solid size for me. Granted I’ve dated a couple girls with A’s.. so there’s that
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