Friday, May 20, 2016


Originally I posted this to my DISH support group and had a lot of positive feedback on it. I figure if I am opening up on my health issues (ie: my daily life) that I might as well toss this one out to the rest of the universe as well.  Just as an FYI...its clean, but not necessarily appropriate for everyone as I (humorously) discuss a real problem I am facing with being a plus size gal with DISH.

Here is one of the oddly humorous curves DISH has thrown at me:

I realized this morning that with as much image posting I do from my small phone, that I should probably clear some photos out of my standard folder, as I wouldn't want to post them by accident and be met with villagers wielding pitchforks and burning torches claiming I am a menace to society and all that is holy in the world.

Let me explain:

My surgeon and I are waiting to hear if insurance will approve a breast reduction to ease my back and neck pain. Having been amply endowed since puberty, this struggle has been going on for over 3 decades now. "The girls" (as they call themselves) merely laugh in the face of weight loss and refuse to budge by so much as an inch; zoning regulations be damned. Being the darn little (uh...not so little) squatters that they are, they refuse to listen to reason, so I am now forced to consider drastic measures.

In preparation, my surgeon asked what I felt would be a reasonable setting on the va-va-va-voom yardstick (my measuring reference, not his!) I had no real frame of reference on what “normal” sizes equated to in terms of spacial volume, so I said, “C”, and then felt I needed to tack on a hurried disclaimer of, “it doesn't matter how they turn out so long as they are smaller that what I deal with now, you know. I don't care what direction they point or shape or anything...please just make them smaller.”

My surgeon laughed along with me, noting that, yes, as size C is a good 7 or 8 letters down the scale from where I currently reside (not counting those tricky twin or triplicate sizing course corrections), it would be just fine as my final destination. However, as I left his office I began to wonder... were C's going to be too big?

So I started researching before and after shots, and even saved a few on my phone with the reasoning that I would point them out to my surgeon like some freaky show and tell: “see Doc, her original set is similar to mine and see what she was able to get...can I have those too?”

Heaven help me if someone finds them, as I am really a clean-cut girl, though it probably wouldn't be hard to explain since all of the before shots are marked up with surgical “cut here” dotted lines, x's and arrows, making these poor victims of "excess coverage" look like impromptu chalkboards recording lines of scrimmage for the home team's next big play!

Of course I can't be so forward as to walk up to a gal and simply ask for her cup size; “Where did you get those earrings?” no problem. “Love the haircut, mind if I snap a shot to show my hairdresser?” easy as pie. “Can I ask you what your breast size is, 'cause I want those?” sorry....nope. I'd either wind up with a slap to the face, which I don't need (but then, everything hurts anyway), or a speculative glance and maybe someone's phone number, which really doesn't fit my style either.

Which leaves me with my current situation...googling (googling, not ogling...thankfully, there is a difference) breasts online; hoping no one sees my little stash and start thinking I have a problem.....

Which I do....

Curse you DISH!

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