The Curvacious Path to Health Hell

Years ago, like most young adults, I dealt with a plethora of insecurities. Also, like most females, every part of my body from puberty on was subject to judgment and sexualization. By most standards, I have all of the things that are deemed “desirable”: I am tall with most of my height coming from my long legs. I have symmetrical facial features that include a slender nose, full lips, and well-defined cheekbones and jawline. I am athletic and slender, proof of my many years as a dancer. The only thing I lacked was boobs.

To give you a bit of an idea, find the closest tabletop or counter and run your hand over it. Yup, that’s the same amount of volume I touted.

From middle school on I was mercilessly teased for my chest; it has always been a point of embarrassment for me. When I turned thirty, after both of my children were born and had deflated the small amount of tatas I managed to sprout, I was left with what I refer to as Sad Pancakes. It was then that I made the decision to get implants. I didn’t want anime-Esque bazongas, just full and bouncy girls that would balance my broad shoulders and squat-built rear end. I told myself not only would it make my confidence soar, but it would help financially too. Being a female in the service industry, my looks were just as important in my job as my ability to communicate and socialize.

Wouldn’t it be lovely if that was that and we all lived happily ever after?

That’s how it most positively, almost never, turns out.

Now, over half a decade later, they are making my physical health close to a living hell. I will state that I was diagnosed with multiple chronic illnesses before getting my implants. I started treatment for both Hashimoto’s Disease and Celiac’s about five years before I made the leap to get the gals done (this plays a part in my toxic funbags story).

The surgery went great, the first few months went by quickly and my new toys settled into place and looked phenomenal. I finally had the shape I had always dreamed of. I can't tell you when the symptoms started. Maybe it was immediately but I was used to similar symptoms dealing with my Hashi's. Maybe it was within the last year when I began taking note of feeling less than my usual norm. Either way, I am now the frog that has finally realized it's sitting in boiling water: I just hope it's not too late for me to jump out of the pot.

My endocrinologist has told me my labs are "within range" and that's all that matters. My gastroenterologist has told me I just need to add fiber to my diet to try and regulate my severe IBS. My gynecologist performed a total hysterectomy last year in hopes of helping with the uterine and cervical issues I've been fighting. Society tells me I look too pretty to be sick and it's all in my head. After months of searching, and reading, and asking questions through all sorts of platforms, I've realized it's not in my head.

It's in my breasts. Tucked under the muscle. Living in a nice warm home. And destroying me.

The brand I had implanted has been in and out of the news for causing health issues. I have learned how rampant breast cancer runs in my family. I spend my days being trapped in a body that is constantly fighting a foreign object and the effects of that range from debilitating migraines, food allergies, joint pain, and fatigue. As I track my symptoms and compare them to others' stories on Breast Implant Illness forums, I feel embarrassed that I made life-altering choices based solely on physical appearance. I also feel comforted knowing that I am far from the only one to do so.

Knowing that I may bring comfort and validation to other people is one of my main motivations for writing. The hope that this will help someone from making the same mistake that I did pushes me to share my story now.

Some people may have multiple implants over the years and live their life happily forever after. Some may have none and still feel the impacts of the multitude of toxic things we are surrounded by every day. What I am finding, is that Breast Implant Illness is so much more common than we are led to believe. I was told possible side effects of my surgery, but nothing negative about the implants themselves. That your body will create capsules of tissue to fully enclose the implants once they're inside you as an attempt to protect your vessel from foreign invaders. That many doctors have known for years how unsafe implants can be, but because they are incredibly profitable, that knowledge is hidden. That upwards of 25% of silicon implant recipients and 8% saline implant recipients get them removed. That thousands and thousands of people with implants deal with symptoms of BII or develop one to multiple autoimmune diseases.

I have learned, breasts aside, that my worth is not tied to my physical appearance. My worth is the value I set it to be; that value is counted in kindness to others, strength for myself and for those around me, the respectable and caring humans my children are, and so many more things that have nothing to do with my bra size. All of the things that I am, all the things that I do, my worth as a human, I know that I can be so much more if I’m able to start healing. And that journey starts with getting my body back to its natural state, and free from breast implants.

The past few years have been tough, for everyone. Being able to get my implants removed is something I can't do; without asking for help. Please feel free to leave a tip, share my story, or if you're feeling generous you can donate to my GFM here: https://gofund.me/b0370609

Every little bit helps, and I appreciate it more than you know.