"With a warning label this big, you know it has to be fun."
(Seriously, though, a warning: this might be more personal than you want to read.)
I probably bore you all with a retelling of my dreams more often than any blogger should, but sometimes you just gotta share, especially when you have the ultra-vivid dreams I have (and always remember). So this dream last night... I was living in the apartment in ProvOrem from a few years ago, where I was living when I started ye olde blog back up again. This particular detail is really only important because in that January or February, I had a tonsillectomy that knocked me out, and
Kandee the Shorter Roommate was really great about taking care of me. A couple of months later, she got an, um, augmentation (I should say that while she was pretty open about it pre-surgery, I don't know for sure that it's something she talks about, but her pseudonym would be as useful in finding her as Marky Mark's is so I'm pretty sure her anonymity is protected if she prefers keeping the new C-cups on the down-low.) and so I took care of her, too.
Anyway, so in my dream, I was having non-cosmetic surgery on the rack for some unclear, health-based reason, something relatively minor but still requiring general anesthesia. Kandee talked to the surgeon without my involvement and got him to offer to give me implants - for free - since I would already be in surgery. For some insane reason I agreed to it (because, I guess, what's a better deal than free dollars?) and when I woke up from surgery? Hopelessly lopsided.
Perhaps this is a result of having a temporary interest in the early episodes of
Dr. 90210 and the freakishness of
Dr. Robert Rey circa the Time O' Surgeries, but my dream even involved an exact measurement of the lopsidedness - the left implant was 110 CCs, whereas the right was 150 CCs. I don't really know how big that would actually be (although I'm sure Dr. Rey would be telling me to triple it), but in my dream, it made me huge (probably because I'm not small to begin with) and, again, LOPSIDED. I tried to function normally, but I couldn't stop obsessing about my front-and-center problem. I was trying to figure out how to get the implants out, wondering if surgery would really be necessary, because the result was so plastic-feeling that just ripping them out didn't seem like that bad of an option. Plus, when I tried to lie on my back, I actually whacked myself in the face with the right one and was kinda suffocated a bit. (Does anyone know if a 40-CC difference would be all that noticeable?) Kandee once again took care of me post-surgery, but you need more than a roommate's help when your new saline bust is smothering you.
My alarm, of course, went off before the problem was resolved, so I woke up thinking that I still had the lopsided things (highly relieved to find that I wasn't actually Uneven Dolly Parton Jr.), and I've actually spent all day still a little freaked out. I swear, if tonight's dreams involve lopsided-faux-bosom-induced asphyxia (or even faux bosoms at all), I think I'm just gonna stop sleeping for a couple of days.
