Life Update

I've been wanting to get back to blogging recently, and I noticed my last post was four years ago. A lot has happened in that span of time - and it's more than I would have ever imagined. I finished grad school, moved home, worked in marketing - then freelanced, landed my dream job in another state, moved to Houston, made a ton of friends (especially since I didn't know a soul when I moved there), maintained job security during the oil recession, fell in love, and am now planning a wedding.

It was a lot to take in. I went from security in friendships, living at home, and having roots in Louisiana to uprooting my life, starting fresh, and moving to Houston. Within two days of moving, I attended a church down the road from my apartment and met the girl who would be the matron of honor in my wedding. The next day, I started my job as a technical writer. I established myself as a single, independent woman who spent Saturdays driving through downtown, midtown, The Heights, and Montrose. I developed lifelong friendships and created memories I'll never forget. I started running (then stopped...then started again....then stopped), sprained my ankle, grew closer to my family members, and within 30 months, met the love of my life.

I'm a huge believer in getting out of your hometown and establishing a life of your own (even if it is temporary). Apply for the job across the country, move ten hours from home, take the risk. Knowing you did it and could make it is far more rewarding than wondering what if. I'll never forget the email I received about my current job. For a minute, I hesitated, but I knew this was a now or never thing. Always seize opportunities. You never know what lies ahead if you do.

Top Five Things in Every House with a Baby or Toddler

I've babysat well over 10 years, and even though I'm in my mid-twenties and have a good job, it's still one of my favorite things to do. Why? Kids are full of surprises, people want someone responsible to watch their children, it's easy money, and parents can have a night out.

That being said, here are five things you will find in EVERY house with a baby (aside from a crib and changing table...those are a given):


1. A baby swing: They had these when I was a baby, duh, but they've made drastic improvements.
   Some even have soothing vibrations on the bottom to help ease a fussy baby. Typically the Graco  
   brand, everyone has a baby swing that plays the same rounds of classical music (or some baby
   song) that you'll eventually have memorized in which order it belongs.

2. A lovey: When I was a baby, they just had stuffed animals and blankets . Now the geniuses at the
   baby toy companies created a stuffed animal with an attached blanket that makes babies look like
   cuddling cutie pies. Soft to the touch, any sleepy baby you see these days is holding one of these
   things close to the face.

3. High chairs: This is a duh, but here me out. Back when I first babysat, and even when I was a kid,
    high chairs were plastic or wood. That's it. No cushions. Now? Let's keep baby comfortable while
    eating. While the tops are easily wipeable, let's be real: food will get squished on the fabric, and
    what was once a pink, vibrant high chair is now full of smashed sweet potatoes and spit up. So \
    even though the it looks all cute now, just remember: it's not for long.

4. Bumbos: I thought this was some kind of torture device the first time I saw this while babysitting
   (roughly three years ago). However, it's an absolute life saver when you want to plop down the
   baby to rescue her three-year-old sister who got her head stuck in a helmet. In a bumbo, babies can
   sit up without having the wiggles. AKA, this is a wonderful, overpriced piece of plastic.

5. Pack'n Play: The biggest lifesaver for little crawlers. I noticed this as a growing trend roughly five
   years ago. They are wonderful. Plop baby in when you have to run to the loo and have your only
   worry be a cry for loneliness. The one linked even has a top part that's really awesome for living
   rooms and has a changing table included. Don't want to endure a stinky diaper smell trailing  
   through your house? No problem. Need to turn down the roast on the stove and grab a glass of
   water? Set the kid in.

Why I Seldom Secondhand

Sell your clothes, make some dough.  Save even more money by buying gently used clothing.  Imagine how full your bank account will be! Sounds simple, right?  While I am all about selling some of my old threads to make some green, buying used clothes isn’t my thing.  The purpose of this blog entry is to explain it.

Disclaimer: I have friends who shop at Goodwill and secondhand stores, and if that’s their thing, hey – whatever makes you happy. These are just my thoughts on it. I’m also not trying to come off as a snob – people have given me their old clothes, and I am eternally grateful for their throw-outs becoming my treasure.

Alas, here are my reasons:

1    1. They cost the same as regular stores.  You read that right.  You’re probably thinking, “But I can get a shirt from a secondhand store that’s only $20, and Banana Republic makes it!”  Want to know a secret?  When stores such as Banana Republic, J. Crew, and Gap have extra 40% or more of clearance items, I’ve walked out of there spending $20 for two items.   

       Here’s a little story: on my birthday in 2013, I went to Banana Republic, and they had extra 50% off sale items.  I bought a pair of white-linen trousers and a blue blouse for $25. Yes. Two items for $25. The pants were 50% off $27, and the top was 50% off $11.  These were career-type pieces, but they were crammed in the sale section with other forgotten items.   

      Another story: This week, I snagged some steals from J. Crew when I managed to buy two button-downs for $13-17/each, a wool sweater for $20 (you read that right), and a dressy blouse for $22.  Sure, I had to pay the $5 flat-rate shipping, but hey - that's an extra $1.25 on each piece? 

      Final brag: Ann Taylor had extra 50% off clearance items.  For $22, I landed a black, silk shell with lace on it and a maroon peplum blouse.  

      On secondhand sites, used clothes from higher-end stores cost more.  Think about it.

      2. You know where they’ve been.  I like knowing that the only places my clothes have journeyed are from the factory/distribution center to the store.  When I look at used items, I wonder what stories the fabric could tell (and if I really want to know what it’s been through). 

3 

      3.  They aren’t “broken in.”  I like breaking in clothes myself.  I don’t like the thought of someone else wearing a pair of jeans to where they awkwardly fit me now.  My jeans have adjusted to my body over time – others don’t.  And I don’t know the last time those clothes at Goodwill were washed (or who has tried them on).  I know there isn’t the same assurance at the mall, but I like to think that way (and if the fabric allows, I always wash before I wear).

          

           4. The pants fit odd and haven’t drawn up. Don’t like your jeans to go in the dryer? The previous owner probably placed them in it. 

4   5. Bargain stores, such as Marshall’s and TJ Maxx have better deals.  It’s true.  Ever go at the end of the season?   I once snagged a $200 BCBG dress for $20.  Another time, I found a silk BCBG blouse for $7.  Imagine the possibilities.  It’s like secondhand minus someone else previously wearing the clothes and the fear of hidden stains. If there's a UAL in your area, go there.  You can find designer apparel (even Miu Miu shoes) at killer prices.

Again, these are my personal takes on secondhand shopping.  If you’re a fan, go for it.  If you’re like me, there’s something about finding a steal, cutting the tags, and making that outfit mine.  Once I’m done wearing it, I’ll happily sell my gently-used clothing to a secondhand shopper.  Perhaps you’re one of the lucky ones who’s scored one of my former gems and have made it your own.  As for me, I’ll stick with new clothing.

The Unknown

“We don’t really know what it is, but we’re going to do further testing on it.”  Since July, it feels as if I hear those words whenever I step into a doctor’s office. Unexplainable headaches. Pressure in my head. A knot on my knee.

Back in June, I had the scariest migraine of my life.  I couldn’t think right, my head was throbbing, my vision became impaired in my right eye, and I had problems speaking.  I scheduled an appointment with the neurologist and was diagnosed with chronic headaches. I was prescribed Toprimate (generic for Topamax) and was told to come back the following month.  While taking Toprimate, soda tasted disgusting, I had constant headaches and sweats, I felt out-of-sight/out-of-mind, and I wanted to always be in bed. It was miserable. 

A week later (July 24), I went to the ophthalmologist since my eyes were last checked when I was nine.  He told me to go get my mom and have her listen in on what he found.  Little to my knowledge, we would become experts on neurological conditions.  I was ordered not to Google anything and to come back two days later for testing.  I was also scheduled to have an MRI the following week.  The ophthalmologist said I would be fine, but he wanted to make sure it was nothing severe.

The following Tuesday night (July 30), the ophthalmologist said I had a condition called pseudotumor.  It is extremely rare and is found in 1 in 100,000 women during childbearing years.  After the MRI, I was scheduled to have a spinal tap August 2.

For one who has a high tolerance for pain, let me be real: it hurts. Bad.  The nurses held my hand, and I was put on a strict six-hour bed rest.  I should be having another one, and I will beg for pain medication.  You feel pressure and are lucky to have them hit you on the first try.  When the radiologist measured my fluid pressure (which felt like forever), he said it was at 37.  To give an idea, one passes out at 40, and the normal level is 15.  One nurse remarked that it was the highest she had ever seen.  Though in pain, the entire medical staff was beyond great.  I was informed when I would feel pressure, and one nurse constantly held my hand and said to squeeze when I felt pain.  I’m sure her hand was purple at times.

After the procedure, I thought my level would be normal and that I would be free from pain for a few months. Wrong.  That Sunday, I had a migraine, keeping me in bed for five hours.  Advil no longer worked for pain – only Goody’s Powders (a gift from God, I tell you). 

The headaches and pressure remained constant as it became time for me to head back to Ruston to finish my last leg of graduate school.  I was taking Diamox to help with the fluid pressure, but I had to be weaned off because it was giving me stroke symptoms.  Additionally, I noticed a change in my vision.  What used to be clear objects suddenly had a ghostly appearance.  I recognized this at church.  With a planned weekend at home rapidly approaching, I called the ophthalmologist in New Orleans.  Within 20 minutes, I was sitting in his friend’s office.  By the conclusion, I was blessed – I only needed glasses.  The glasses eventually rid me of most headaches.

What I haven’t mentioned is weight’s “effect” on this condition.  Doctors swear that if you lose as little as 5%, pseudotumor will leave.  I lost that 5%, and I saw squat. Both ophthalmologists and my neurologist said they saw little change, but it wasn’t any better or any worse.  I have kept the weight off, but I put little hope into it. 

In addition to pseudotumor, I have battled hypothyroidism since I was 15.  The prior year, my weight surged, and my mom was concerned.  I was sent to an endocrinologist and have been on Synthroid since.  While I was taking care of doctor’s appointments, she recommended that I get tested for poly-cystic ovarian syndrome.  She said it is commonly linked with pseudotumor. 

I am thankful to be going to a neuro-opthalmologist Friday (yes, on Black Friday).  I am intrigued as to what she will say and will want to do.  Both ophthalmologists I have seen advised that I need to have another spinal tap; however, the neurologist has not shown haste in having one done.  Furthermore, I am seeking a second medical opinion because my current neurologist is does not specialize in pseudotumor, and my ophthalmologist who detected it suggested I do so.  My current neurologist suggested I have a shunt placed if lasiks fail.  I’m 24, and if possible, I do not want to undergo brain surgery.  I decided to blog about this to let others know that they are not alone.

You may be thinking, "what about the spot on your knee?"  Well, I went to a surgeon and had it removed.  After going back yesterday for a checkup, he said nothing is official, but he believes it's a benign tumor of the sweat gland.  Skin pathologists are currently looking at it.  I know I should probably be bummed out and to my wits end, but I seriously laughed the entire drive home as I blasted Tegan and Sara's new CD Heartthrob (seriously the bomb diggity).  

I wish it were easier to find a cure for pseudotumor.  I wish that I (as well as thousands of other women) did not have to endure pressure, pain, and endless failed "treatments" (abstaining from my favorite vegetables that are high in vitamin A has been quite difficult).  I imagine a day where the doctor will tell me that it is no longer there and that I don’t have (insert new medical thing here), but I know that for now, it’s just a dream.

Acrylic, Solar, and Gel Nails: Why You Should Have Them

If you have nails like mine, you can never get them to grow. Nail strengthening products fail; once the tips show rapid signs of growth, the nail gets brittle and breaks; and the nails are always polished. Since I was in fifth grade, my nails NEVER went without color. I would try daring reds, yet would be heartbroken when they would begin to chip, and my nails would break. I filed, removed polish, clipped, painted, moisturized, etc., yet nothing could make my nails look refined. This was until my mom presented a novel idea to me upon my graduation from college: get acrylics.

I didn't want to look like a prostitute, sales clerk, or obnoxious person, but I had an open mind about this change. I donned a French manicure for graduation, but I knew it would last maybe five days. Maybe. Once the tip chips, doom takes over, and thus begins the bye-bye manicure process. Once my nails showed chipping and my fill-ins with a white nail pen stopped working, I broke down and got a starter set. I had the acrylics with the brush-on white tips. Until then, I had no clue what "pink and white" were and was still an amateur at the whole nail thing. I just wanted my fingers to look professional yet give me the satisfaction of tapping things with actual nails that I never had. Over the summer, the acrylic powder made my nails yellow, and by the time I moved to begin graduate school, I changed from white tips to soft pinks. I figured the soft pinks would prevent the ability to tell if my nails had grown much, which meant having to get less-frequent fills. Considering it pained me to fork out $16 every two weeks, I tried to make it happen. After a fill or two with the color, the nail tech told me something alarming. He said I needed to take off the set that was currently on, mainly because when the nail lifts, water gets under and trapped. This results in fungus, which can ruin the whole nail.

Sick.

His solution? Solar nails. He assured me that having a new set would pay off in the end, and the tech sent me to the store owner for my new set. I'm not going to lie - I hate spending the extra money every two weeks to maintain these, but beyond that, they are SUPER low maintenance. They don't chip, always look great, and I have developed a strong relationship with my nail tech, Wendy. When I left the salon that day, I was absolutely shocked as to how good those nails looked. The only reason that I changed salons a few months later was because I grew tired of the constant salon bashing. If you get a fill elsewhere, they critique it. I'm here to get my nails filled and to catch up on gossip - not to hear you insult the person who did my nails (which I greatly appreciated and thought looked nice). My solution? Change salons.

That's where I met Wendy. After getting an oil change at the dealership in the town I attend graduate school, I noticed that the clerk had beautiful solar nails (or "pink and white" if you may). I asked her where she went, and she told me Walmart. My jaw dropped. When I say I abhor that place, it's an understatement. Kids with Cheetos smothered on their faces growling at people; rednecks; mullet families on Saturday mornings (true story); those who can't formulate a sentence; ignorant people who can't work the self-checkout section; and so, so many more pet peeves. I decided to try to overlook those and give it a whirl. Know what? I'm now a regular.

Wendy has never insulted another salon I have attended. She understands that I have to go elsewhere when I'm home, and we always catch up on life once I drop by for a fill. My mom has remarked multiple times that my nails always look beautiful when I go to Wendy. She explains everything to me, and we always catch up on the latest gossip. Here's basically what she said about the three types of nails you can get: solar, acrylic, and gel.

Solar: The most common form of this type is the "pink and white." It's the simple French tips, yet they brush on the white powder after applying the pink. The nail tech will make the white powder a little bit deeper down your nail the first set in order for them to grow out. Whenever I get a "pink and white" fill, it lasts me about six weeks. Although it costs more (to give you an idea, p&w is $35; a regular fill is $20), it pays off in the long-run. Regal Nails in Walmart also uses a shiny coat as a sealant. The salons back home will usually just buff them. If you want a coat elsewhere, there's a charge. Fill time: 2-3 weeks. I try to go every two weeks to prevent the nails from lifting, and to keep them manicured.

Acrylic: These are the basic fake nails you see women wear. The white tips can be painted on, or some women may choose a color. These can cost anywhere from $20-30 for a new set and $13-18 for a fill. The only downfall is that the colors lose their shine after about a week. Also, if you use dark colors, the nail underneath it becomes exposed after about a week, so it looks odd. These nails also lift and make the actual nail yellow a little more easily than the others. Acrylics are the cheapest of the bunch.

Gel: from what I've been told, gel nails are when the technician glues on the plastic white nail tip, adds the pink solution to the bottom (which completes the French manicure look) and seals it with the same clear gel they use for solar nails. One of my friends tried to get me to convert to gel, but Wendy said the "pink and white" solar nails are better than gel. Gel nails cost around the same as the solar to fill.

With all of this being said, I am sold on having fake nails. In fact, I recognize that more and more women are joining the trend. There is seriously NOTHING more relaxing than that moment you step out of the salon with a fill, feeling like you can overcome the world. I had a "pink and white" fill this afternoon and cannot stop looking at my hands. The only things to consider are the damage it does to your actual nail, as well as financial costs in the long-run. If you can overlook that with the professional appearance your nails will have, I advise that you head to the salon now and go get a set.

Christian Mingle

You know you've hit rock bottom in the single world when you try online dating - at least that was the case for me. I figured why not give this a shot? Thing is, it was a joke when I joined (for the heck of it).  Once on there, I felt like it was pickahusband.com. You could select race, age range, if they have photos (love is blind, therefore I wanted to see a picture), religious upbringings, relationship history, etc. And while this is great, a few red flags stuck out to me.
While my membership lasted just over 24 hours, numerous men my dad's age looked at my profile. I got a wink from a guy who was 38. Note: I'm 23. Therefore, he could be my father. At 11:00 last night, a guy wanted to IM. I don't know about you, but if a random guy is wanting to chat after 9:00, something isn't right with the picture. In my opinion, there should be an option where people within a certain age range can look at my profile. When your picture comes up, so does your age. Then why are old freaks looking at my page? My other thing is this - would Jesus approve of old creeps checking out a young woman? Certainly not.
Back to my story. I was flattered to receive smiles from a very attractive guy in Boston. Thing is, I don't live there yet. Another reason why it wasn't for is is simply this: I want to be pursued in person. I shouldn't have to rely on the internet and some guy to IM me for it to be counted as a romantic gesture of "picking me up." These people are dead serious on here as well. Thing is, it freaks me out to think about dating someone and getting engaged a few months later. Maybe it's because I've never been one to date around the block - or that I'm afraid of screwing up in a relationship. I felt it wasn't right to lead a guy on in this situation - and heck, what's the point in wanting a Boston man if I'm not up there yet? What - are we going to talk and talk, and with my luck, him be a 40-year-old creep?
Hear me out - I'm not bashing online dating. I know people who met online. That's falalalalala fine. And while some may have time for and adore online dating, it's just not for me. At least not now

Getting Burned Milk Out of a Keurig

As a graduate student, coffee is my staple form of receiving 64 ounces of fluids daily.  Although I drink a cup in the morning, the final two weeks of the quarter have created an increase in my consumption.  However, last night, I learned a valuable lesson: never, EVER put milk in your Keurig. Ever.  One of my grad school friends was over, and we were working on a paper. Considering it was roughly 1 a.m., he wanted some hot chocolate.  I always put milk in mine, but we agreed that we should try to brew the milk. Again, BAD IDEA.  This terrible smell came from the Keurig, it brewed a funky, burned chocolate odor, and the metal part was SCORCHED. Like when you burn milk and cheese at the bottom of a pan while making the cheese sauce to compliment your macaroni.  Disgusting.  And the smell...we burned candles and hoped for the best.  I used some Dawn soaking power detergent and vinegar. In addition, I used a spoon to scrape the residue out of the bottom.  It still stank. Bad. I Googled, searched Pinterest, everything for answers.  I soaked it overnight with Dawn, some baking soda and vinegar.  This morning, I rinsed it out, but there were still some spots at the bottom.  I went to Super1, bought some goods, and it was fixed. Beautiful. Now it's odor-free, shiny, the cleanest it has ever been and works like a charm. You may not have the same results as me, but best of luck! Note: I have the Keurig B30, which is the mini one.  I purchased it two years ago from Dirt Cheap (salvage) for $40.  I have never had problems with it and seriously though I was going to have to call customer service or fork out cash for a new one.  Also, I'm a grad kid...which means I'm broke...so it wouldn't be pretty. 

The supplies:

-White vinegar

-Dawn detergent (overnight kind is what I used)

-Mr. Clean Magic Eraser

-Coffee-Maker Cleaner (by Whink - comes in a white bottle)

-Dip-It (blue cardboard box with a spout on the side)

-Baking soda

Note: With the exception of filtering the water through in a brewing cycle, my machine was UNPLUGGED. Don't forget to do so...otherwise your Keurig might outlive you.

After soaking overnight in the vinegar, detergent and baking soda, I rinsed it out really well and ran some cycles through to try to get all that I could.  I cut about an inch vertically and horizontally off the Mr. Clean eraser and maneuvered it in the water reservoir with two fingers, intensely scrubbing out the stuff. What was once a white eraser is now a disgusting color, but it works.  From then, I filtered out the water about five times (I'm really anal about getting the smell out).  I then used about a teaspoon of Dip-It in addition to the Coffee Maker Cleaner, some water and some white vinegar.  It soaked for about 20 minutes, and then I once again used the Magic Eraser.  Holding the machine upside down over the sink, I used the extension hose and rinsed out all of the excess particles from the Dip-It.  Once all of it was out, I put a dab more of the Coffee Maker Cleaner and filtered it through with water.  I then checked a final time to make sure I got all of the scorched milk out and even used a spoon to get the final pieces.  It helped the most however when I scraped it off with a spoon while the Dip-It was in there.  That stuff is also designed to get odors out of dishes and pots, as well as to clean out residue...so it's definitely a keeper. Also, the Coffee Maker Cleaner is supposed to be used once a week. Good to know.  Considering my Keurig is a single-server, I'll only need to use about a tablespoon with it.  It was also amazing to see how disgusting my machine had gotten.  

Back on track now....

The final thing I did was brew water through it about five times.  Yes, stuff still came out the first two times, but the final three, the water smelled fine, and my machine was beyond clean. 

So lesson learned: NEVER use anything but water in that Keurig. 

A Sudden Call

It's amazing how things can change in an instant.

My grandma was diagnosed with lymphoma about a year and a half ago. Since then, she has been in a nursing home, unable to walk. She had a feeding tube, gained weight without knowing, had a loving family bring her milkshakes and goodies and always, ALWAYS smiled. She loved her family more than anyone could imagine. Yet God had better plans. Around 8:00 tonight, she went to be with Jesus.

Meemaw was one of the most precious people in my life. She lived in San Antonio for a few decades, always wore velvet pants (even in the summer) and had red acrylic nails. They were always red. Her name, Vivian, was a clear understatement to how she lived. When she wasn't drinking coffee (alone or with friends), spending time at church/studying the Bible or planning her next trip (she loved to travel), she would talk about her family. She would call our house frequently and catch up on life. I remember growing up thinking she never had grey hair. It was always dark brown. Even in the nursing home, someone darkened it for her. Her lips were always a pink shade, and she had a special way of saying the word "sweetheart." It was her nickname for most of the grandkids. Meemaw would nod a lot and say yes for confirmations. She worked for a Christian Jew foundation and always shared Christ's love to everyone. Meemaw would go to Israel and study the Old Testament, then she would come home with tons of stories. She always made it a point to get us something and had a story with it.

When I revealed my dream to move to Boston several years ago, she told me to go on with it. Even in her final months, she told me to never give up that dream, and that she'd hope to come visit me someday up there.

That's why my face dropped when I the call from my mom. I was in the middle of watching Beauty and the Beast (Meemaw gave me the VHS recording when I was three) and having a pow-wow with my friend Natalie. As soon as the movie ended and Natalie left, I curled up and cried. I mean, what else was there to do? I got in bed, cuddled with a pillow and buried my head in it. Unable to move, I held my fetal position and thanked God that she is no longer in pain, no longer struggling with hospital stays and doctors and no longer cancerous.

I eventually got up and listened to some Coldplay while I started packing. It's impossible to put your finger on where to even begin under these circumstances. I emailed my professors saying I'd have to miss class, texted my friends to give them a head's up and tried to organize things. I hate that I didn't go home this weekend and spend some time with her. The last time I saw her was a few days after my birthday. She was all smiles, talked a lot and gave me an LSU lamp. It did not fit with the moving stuff, but it will definitely be in my apartment upon return.

After packing some things (I'm still not done), I began to listen to some of my Christian music, praying that the next song would be a comfort. It absolutely was. Any song that came on discussed giving our sorrows to Jesus or keeping the faith in the fire and harvests. It was exactly what I needed. Granted, there are still times I just find myself sitting on the floor staring at the wall, or I catch myself laying in bed crying uncontrollably, but knowing my grandma is with Jesus, reunited with her husband (who passed away when my dad was 16) and recalling the last time I saw her was absolutely wonderful were constant reassurances to me.

Two years ago, I lost my grandpa to stomach cancer. Now that this happened, I was reminded of Job - how he lost it all, yet he still trusted God. To have faith like Job and know that God will always be there is the main thing that's helping me pack. I know the drive is going to be long tomorrow, but seeing my family and feeling my mother's embrace and father's smile are the things I'm looking forward to the most.

Tim Tebow says, "I don't what the future holds, but I know who holds my future." Those words absolutely speak truth.

Surgery

Due to the fact that I am scheduled to have a breast reduction Aug. 1, I have decided to create a blog that is fully dedicated to the surgery. It tells the story of my life before the surgery and will be updated as appointments come and go. To say I am ready for this is a total understatement. I would go under the knife at the very moment if I was allowed. Prayers and support are greatly appreciated, as I am terrified of the pain and swelling that lies ahead. I know this is God's will for me, and the countdown is officially on! Words cannot express the gratitude I have for my friends' constant support to undergo this life-changing surgery. I am so blessed to have them go through this with me. I'm also grateful to my parents for seeing to it that my pain ceases before I go into the real world. This blog is dedicated to the millions of women out there who suffer like I do on a daily basis from having oversized breasts. My heart goes out to each of you, and I know exactly what you're going through. The blog is brutally honest and tells of my fears, concerns and reliefs associated with this surgery, as well as the ugly truth of having a large rack. It's my story, and I'm willing to share it.

To view or follow that blog, click here.