Water Buffalo Breasts

Several years ago, I had a breast reduction.  Now before my male readers yell, “Noooooo“, let me explain.

Developing at a young age, I went from flat to a 34E in less than a year.  The older men started rubbernecking, construction workers started whistling and shouting inappropriate slurs, and my father just about had a coronary.

At age twelve, he was already planning my high school graduation present – a breast reduction.

By twenty-one, I looked like I should be on the cover of National Geographic a part of the Ubangi Tribe.


Fast forward to my early thirties, when I finally decided to see a plastic surgeon.

I went to the best, the one all the professional sport wives see.  I brought my mom with me, and after meeting the doctor, they discovered wildlife photography was a common interest.

My surgeon had just returned from Africa, and after he instructed me to disrobe, he proceeded to show my mom his photos.

A nervous wreak to present my “tribe women breasts”, I finally worked up the courage.

I closed my eyes, turned around, and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”

All I heard him say was, “It looks like two water buffalos fighting.”


Shocked and horrified, I opened my eyes.  Here was a plastic surgeon in his sixties who had seen everything, and he thought my boobs looked THAT bad?!  I quickly covered myself.

Standing beside my mom, he looked up in my direction.

“Oh, not you, dear.  I was commenting on a photograph.”

…humor happens

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