Pick me up - Bye Bye Big Nipple

Gross. A word that makes you think of something revolting. Not a word you’d use to describe yourself, is it? But there I was, in December last year, looking at my boobs and that very word came out of my mouth. ‘Gross’, I muttered. ‘Everything all right?’ my fiancé, Adam, 25, asked cheerily as he came into the bedroom. Quick as a flash, I pulled my dressing gown over my chest. ‘Fine,’ I mumbled. But things weren’t fine. You see, I’d come to hate my boobs so much, I couldn’t bear to let Adam near them. It’d all started four years earlier, when I’d had my first child, Rhianna. I’d decided to breastfeed, and it had made my boobs swell from a B cup to a DD. But once they’d been drained of milk, they’d hung like empty sacks. And as for my left nipple, it’d almost doubled in size from 28mm wide to 48mm, while the right one had stayed the same. ‘Look at my big nipple,’ I’d moaned. ‘I’m so ugly.’ ‘You’re beautiful,’ Adam had insisted. But there was no time to worry as, 18 months on, I was pregnant with Joshua. When he was born, I’d tried breastfeeding again, but he hadn’t taken to it. So now, I was left with the ugliest boobs in the world. Incredibly, Adam still wanted to marry me. ‘How about having the wedding in Mauritius?’ he suggested. It was such a romantic idea, but the thought of being seen on a beach in a swimming costume with my dodgy deflated boobs was unbearable. I had to do something. ‘I’ll need surgery first,’ I decided. ‘I want to get my nipples sorted.’ ‘You know you’re beautiful to me,’ Adam replied. ‘But if it’s what you want, I’m behind you all the way.’ I contacted The Harley Medical Group in London and they suggested having a natural-looking implant to fill my boobs up again and reshaping the left nipple so it matched the right one. I would cost £5,995. ‘Don’t worry,’ Adam told me. ‘I’ll pay for it. It can be an early wedding present.’ That same day I booked the surgery for March; I also called the travel agent and booked our wedding in Mauritius for November. Two months on, I went to London for the op. Adam came with me, but I wasn’t nervous. I was excited. It was a two-hour procedure, and afterwards, I had to wear a sports bra and bandages over my nipples for six weeks. When the time came to take the bra off and peel back the bandages, there was one person I wanted to see my new boobs. Adam. ‘Lovely,’ he grinned. ‘I’m a lucky man’. And I’m a lucky woman. For the first time in years, I have normal-sized nipples again and my droopy boobs are long gone. My confidence has soared and I’ve already bought 10 skimpy bikinis for our wedding in Mauritius. I don’t think I’ll ever look at my boobs and say: ‘Gross’ again!