The Boob Job Dilemma

I need to talk about my boobs. I used to have a great rack. My breasts managed the miraculous feat of being both perky and large at once.

Then came pregnancy and breastfeeding. I don't care what La Leche League says: Breastfeeding absolutely makes your boobs saggy! My breasts are now a shadow of their former glory. They look like two peach socks, the toes filled with marbles, hanging onto my shoulders for dear life. My nipples look like they are carefully searching the floor below for a lost contact lens. In other words, they point down, waayyyy down, and not out, as one would hope.

Now, I have always been vehemently anti-plastic surgery. Especially anti-boob job. Well, it turns out I'm a total hypocrite. I was only anti-boob job because I didn't need one. Now I need one, badly, and I'm "Go boob lift!" all the way.

My husband is trying to talk me out of it. "You're beautiful!" he says as I traverse the bedroom, naked, holding my breasts up off my ribcage so they don't flop all over as I walk. Why can't he understand that I don't want to look like an aging hippie who burned her bra in 1969 and never managed to replace it? I don't want to buy bathing suits with scaffolding built into the top! I want to be able to wear something strapless or backless and not worry about my damn industrial bra straps poking out. I want to look like Lindsay Lohan again, damn it. (Well, pre-drinking problem Lindsay, before the compromising passed-out-in-vehicle tabloid photos.)

The only problem is I'm a total wuss. I fainted the last time I had a mole removed. I can't stand the sight of blood. If I so much as have a headache, I have to down a bottle of acetaminophen to survive. So how am I going to make it through the recovery of a brutal surgery where they cut open my chest and go hacking away at my flesh? On the other hand, how can I survive a lifetime with a gravity-challenged chest? If I had pert little A-cups, this wouldn't be an issue. But do you know how heavy a D-sized boob that's seen better days is? Heavy! They are seriously straining my neck. So here I sit, saggy-boobed and tortured in my indecision. To boob, or not to boob. What do I do?