Nipped and tucked

A really good friend of mine is having surgery today. Reconstructive surgery, she calls it. Normal people might call it plastic surgery or cosmetic surgery, but not Vanessa. No, after delivering two children and lactating for three years she’s going under the knife to have things put back in their original places.

Her tummy will be tucked. Her breasts will be lifted. She will be every-so slightly lipoed, and she has given me permission to blog about it. Is she the coolest or what?

I’m someone who talks about plastic surgery all the time—oh, I want a nose job (said approximately 30 times a year every year from ages 14 until 28.) Oh, I want a chemical peel (said once a month for the last three years). Oh, do you think I’m ready for Botox (said for the very first time two months ago.)

But instead of just talking about it, my friend is doing it. No matter your stance on cosmetic surgery, you gotta admire that.

This has been very exciting for me, if you can’t tell, especially when Vanessa called and said the surgeon wanted pictures of what she wants her breasts to look like when he’s done.

Breasts, she said, I want them to look like normal breasts.

Yeah, but what kind? He replied.

And that’s how my good friend Vanessa and I came to spend several hours with a Victoria’s Secrets catalog—boob shopping.

That’s right, folks. If you’re willing to pay for it and go to the trouble, you really can shop for anything!

--Ally