There is no such thing as “too late”

I am 46 years old. This is an age when my mother’s generation has long been “invisible” as a woman. Although it certainly played a role in everyday life, whether her shoes were cleaned and her skirt ironed – because that was important for social acceptance – but what the woman looked and actually felt like was irrelevant. Physically, she had made her contribution to the survival of humanity. I was proof of that. Being sexy or desirable was no longer “necessary”.

This may not have been true for all women of this generation (Catherine Deneuve and Mum were born in the same year), but it was for those women who shaped my image of “adults” at that time: women over 35 no longer wore their hair too long and the skirts no longer too short. Efficiency was more important than beauty.

If someone had told me then that I would give myself a breast surgery at the age of 45, that would have seemed absurd to me. 45 – that was in my childhood eyes anyway just before the funeral. It really does not make sense anymore!

Oh well. To all who read this, let me tell you: it pays off.

I had tubular breasts, I was so unhappy from the moment I realized, “Okay, that’s just how it is. That does not grow anymore. ”

I was unhappy with that – long before I knew it had a name and is actually a common type of “growth disorder”. I thought, they are just unequal size and, let’s call it in good Austrian by the name: schiarch.

I was so unhappy when the Tino called across the class: “Haha, who gets a lame chest!” And I was so unhappy as my (well-intentioned) friend Sandra said after the physical education classes in the girls’ wardrobe: “I can always laugh about your unequal breasts. That’s so great! Like a trademark! ”

That was not a trademark for me. For me, that was at least a reason not to break into the pool at night with the rest of the class. Swim naked? Unthinkable. For me that was also a reason to “warn” any man who came closer to me: “Before you take off my sweater … I have a really unequal size bosom. Is that a problem for you? “It never was. At least not for my respective partners. For me already.

“That’s cool,” someone once said to me, “you never need to cheat if you want variety. You are like two different women anyway. “It was meant lovingly.

And it did not help if the mom gave tips: “Fill the bra on one side!” Or worse: “Have more self-confidence!”

Your credo: You do not need breast surgery, you need psychotherapy. Then you learn to accept your body as it is and then it fits.

In one fell swoop, my bosom was not only a physical defect, but also a symbol of my mental inadequacy. And that I wanted to change it was also anti-feminist. Thank you Mama.

I did not go to the sauna anymore. Or only if I could be sure that I would meet no one there, who knew me in a clothed state. I always got a headache and had to go to the room when friends use the hotel sauna for their skiing holiday. Clear: The others were not Victoria’s Secret Models. They had a stomach or cellulite, the men quarreled with beginning receding hairline. But that was all “normal” for me. “Eeveryone has a bit of stomach flab” I thought, only I just have something more conspicuous.

Hiding was like a betrayal of my “my body belongs to me” ideals. I certainly couldn’t show my body.

I became a pretty good lover. I had something to make up for.

During One-Night-Stands I always thought: Through a particularly dedicated commitment, the man may be so distracted that he does not notice “the other” …

And then it was enough. At 45, I had to “do something”. Better late than never. Why so late? There are many reasons … still the idea that you can do that with confidence, that an OP marks me as a “psycho-loser” who just was not cool enough to “stand over” these banal physical things. The idea that only chicks do that. Cool women save the rainforest and not their bust size with their savings. And so on.

Ultimately it was also a question of trust. Which woman likes to leave completely unknown men on her breasts? With a scalpel?

I chose that moment when I felt like it was now or never. The doctor is right. The chemistry is right. And in life, one regrets more and more the things one did not do, than the ones you did. I did not even have enough money at the moment of the decision. I had to borrow it and paid it off last year. But the timing was just right. And I’m glad about that.

Life does not change from one day to the next.

There are scars and after-treatments and sports ban. You do not wake up from anesthesia and suddenly it’s Playboy Centerfold material. Especially not at 45.

But it is now a year later and I regularly go to the sauna in my fitness center. And in midsummer I wear T-shirts without a bra underneath. I did not break into the outdoor pool at night. But I have half a lifetime left …