I've had so much plastic surgery at this point that when I die, I won't be buried or cremated. I'll be recycled.
This was my thought after meeting with my reconstruction surgeon, who felt like my breasts needed to be a tad bigger...just a tad. He said it would look better for my tall frame. But, he left the decision up to me...which is good since I'm the one buying the lingerie.
Of course, my husband, Gary, was no help. He agreed with the surgeon, and described his preference by cupping his hands in front of him at arms' length. Funny.
But, he also said the choice was up to me. Thank you. (I'd like to point out, by the way, that my female friends say my breasts are a normal size...but, that's what I get when I have two men weighing in this matter.)
So, I choose small (excuse me, normal) because I've known too many women who have chosen breast reduction and feeling "free" for the first time in their lives. Well, I'm feel free now...why be encumbered?
My surgeon advised me to think about it over the next couple of months...since I might change my mind. Okay. But, I wouldn't bet on it.