Number nine, number nine.

You two! Over there in the corner! Taunting me, reminding me what I’m not getting.


You guys! Wound up in the drawer! Teasing me, laughing at what I can’t have.


You there! Online, the hundreds of you! Driving me crazy, making me cry over what He doesn’t want.


You words! Silent, hanging ideas! Mocking me, poking fun at the things He won’t give.


The rest of you! In the closet! Yeah, I’ve seen you, you’ve made appearances, but you don’t stick around.


I miss you all. Come back or go away. Stop tormenting me with your mere presence. Please.

Which leads me to (naturally! ha!)…

Tomorrow is nine weeks.
Nine weeks I’ve had these boobs.
Nine weeks I’ve had issues.
Nine weeks of no real exercise.
Nine weeks of pain.
Nine weeks of sad.
Nine weeks of feeling not good enough.
Nine weeks of waiting.
Nine weeks of slow down.
Nine weeks of wondering.
Nine weeks of worry.
Nine weeks of stupid feelings.
Nine weeks of extreme neediness.
Nine weeks of constant reassurance.
Nine weeks of  missing things.
Nine weeks of desperate.
Nine weeks of not normal.
Nine weeks of trying to explain.
Nine weeks of not getting it.
Nine weeks of ugly.
Nine weeks of attitude.
Nine weeks of darkness.
Nine weeks of woe is me.
Nine weeks of fuck it all.
Nine weeks of begging to be numb.
Nine weeks of talking.
Nine weeks I wasn’t at all prepared for.

I’m ready. I’m ready for it all. I need it.
I am scared I’ve ruined it. I’m scared the time has passed.

Don’t fret…once they stop hurting, I think I’ll like the boobs. I just hope the price isn’t all of everything.


Thinking [boob time] Thursday


It’s been a long time coming, only a week in the works… I got new boobs today!


I was determined that it’d be a simple, easy recovery from the get go. I may be shy, but I’m also pretty tough… with a high pain tolerance level.

No. Wrong. Looks like I’m a baby.

High hopes fell by the wayside almost immediately.I’m drugged up and in pain. I look like a Lego body under this big ol’ shirt (I don’t dare take a peek) and moving a pillow takes entirely too long. My chest has apparently been run over by a dump truck, and I think they put bricks in there instead of silicon.

Despite all that… I can’t wait to see my real boobs! Because as far as I’m concerned, my sad, deflated tits (thanks, kids!) were the fake ones.

I’m so very grateful to my Sir for making this happen for me and to my little bird for being by my side, despite this intolerable distance.


Happy Thursday, folks! It’s time for my ten minute nap.

~ shygirl 💕