750cc 800cc breast implant pictures

I had a DMX straight to implants and 15 nodes removed almost 3 months ago. I still have a lot of discomfort around my breasts but especially on my right side and in my arm from where the took the nodes. I’m happy with my size but there is some rippling when I bend over or if I don’t stand with perfect posture. My dr said I need fat grafting. Has anyone else done this? My recovery from the DMX was brutal and I’m petrified of having more pain. So is it worth it? Has anyone else gone through this part? Any thoughts would be helpful.

Hello everyone, I'm searching for a plastic surgeon in Mexico who specializes in XL breast implants. Currently, I have 800cc gummy bear implants, size 38DDD, but I'm looking to increase to around 1800-2500cc. My understanding is that implants over 800cc usually involve saline expanders overfilled. Is that the only option available, or is it possible to custom order XL silicone implants of at least 1500cc thank you Cheers from Park City Utah!

Breast implant removal, also known as explant surgery, is a procedure where breast implants are surgically taken out. This operation may be chosen for various reasons, such as addressing health concerns like capsular contracture, complications associated with Breast Implant Illness (BII), or the desire to return to a more natural appearance. The procedure can involve different techniques, including simple removal through the original incision, capsulectomy where the surrounding scar tissue is also removed, or a breast lift to counteract sagging and reshape the breast. While the surgery carries typical surgical risks such as infection, scarring, and changes in breast sensation, many women find relief and improved well-being post-removal. Recovery typically involves a few weeks of restricted activity, with full results and healing observed over several months. Emotional support and thorough consultation with a qualified surgeon are crucial to ensure satisfactory outcomes and address any concerns throughout the process.

I'm still a teenager..Still trying to find my way into a good highschool, I go to an all girls school, the first arrival was when I came for 6th grade two years ago, I was a skinny, scrawny girl in a school with thick, big boobs, and nice curvy girls. They shamed me for my body and it started my insecurities about my body and how flat in the chest I was compared to them, I had began an eating disorder...Over eating just to gain weight...I wore dresses to show my curves more since I had an hourglass figure.. it just wasn't a slim thick type. I was an easy girl, looking for attention and gullible and unfortunately I'm still struggling with my over sexualization of myself, I wasn't girly at all, and my uniform usually looked 'ugly' on me because of my flat body..So when the summer came I tried showing off and eating as much as possible, I didn't understand why my body was so flat, my mom was thick, busty, yet my dad was tall and had a high metabolism...You think it would put me in the middle, but no..I was very insecure.. editing myself in pictures and stuffing my bras, crying to myself and trying to get with anyone just so they would give me attention, I usually got that wanted attention from older men, 20 year olds...And I liked it, i knew it was wrong but didn't care, I liked older men because it helped me with my trauma. When 7th grade started, I was thicker, not all the way but I had thicker thighs and a plumpy ass, yet my tits were still small, I tried to ignore it but I hear songs, see posts and hear people talking about how they only want a girl with big tits... I was still slim and hard when People called me skinny, it hurt me a lot..I also started getting more desperate as my mom wouldn't let me go outside AT ALL, so whenever I saw a boy, I'd lose my mind and start crying wishing they would be with me, my mom said that how desperate I was, it was very unattractive. But I couldn't help it...My anxiety got worse, everything was getting worse..I keep trying to make my breasts grow, I understand people with big breasts have struggles and I'm sorry, It sucks, I know, my mom talks about it..But I just want them so badly, My mom makes it worse she talks about how I always wear jackets because of how insecure I am, I even would stuff my pants with bras just to have a bigger ass, I hate having to see other people with bigger hips, blessing body's ALL OVER MY SCHOOL, and I understand that comes with struggles too, but I can't help but ache for it...I'm going to 8th grade, and my insecurities just get worse...What do I do?!. I already read other people's posts about their body but nothing helps...I just want to sit in a corner to cry..This shit sucks.

I had my mastectomy on 5/6, hoping drains will come out tomorrow or Wednesday!! Wanted to ask you all, will normal breast movement ever return? I feel like my implants are so stiff and don’t “jiggle” (lol). They’re larger than my natural breasts, previously was a 32C and now I believe I’m a DD. Do they ever move / feel normal?
I’m 26 and weigh 133lbs without much upper body fat. DMX straight to implant

Im looking to get a breast lift within the next year and have looked into a few surgeons. One being Beverly Fischer in Maryland. Im still undecided about implants as I would prefer not to but if they give me my desired results, then I would go through with them. Just wondering if anyone has had the procedure done in the area and who they're plastic surgeon was. What they're experience was like and maybe the cost for what they had done. Thank you for anyone who has any insight or surgeon recommendations!

I'm reading "Wages of Destruction" by Adam Tooze and he seems to paint a convincing picture that debunks a lot of myths about the Nazis they successfully implanted in their enemies and exposes the unsustainability of the Nazi economy, using for example the fact that even the cheap "people's radio" was iirc worse than equivalent allied radios of a similar price, despite the name and attempts to claim otherwise, the Nazis were no socialist and German industry and magnates supported the regime, but it did have central planning of sorts, which makes me wonder, how much did Nazi interference hamper the German economy, discounting the unsustainability of rearmament, and how much could have the German economy have been improved, including weapons production, otherwise?

Hey guys, looking for advice on how to navigate this..
My Fiancé has booked a breast augmentation surgery with a plastic surgeon in Miami, this surgeon has done her friends boobs and she really likes them. I have searched for the Dr as well as his clinic on this sub and got no results. He supposedly has 6-10 years of experience which is enough for the ABPS certification from my understanding so what gives? The Dr has plenty of before and after of clients but I’m just worried that my Fiancé might of rushed the process. Is it okay that he is only ABS certified or should i try to convince her to hold on this surgery. She is wanting Silicone implants under the muscle. Thank you for any clarification on this!

I have a really nice waist to hip ratio, and it’s something I’d like to show off more often, but my breasts get in the way. My breasts make me look bigger than I actually am because they drop a little above the waistline, and it just makes me look like I have a boxy figure especially when I wear any type of top.
However, whenever I stretch my arms or lift up my breasts, my figure looks really good. Do any of you have any suggestions for push-up bras that could give me the same effect? I’m willing to send pictures if someone asks for a better consultation.
Thank you!

late 30s - 40-ish year old patient came in wanting his max anteriors “fixed.” I palpated 9, pus came out, sent him to endo who determined 9 has a fracture and recommended ext.
Patient has severe wear, max anteriors are intruded slightly, and no restorative space for anything. Class 3 type skeletal profile. I feel like anything that gets done here will be destroyed (implant, bridge). Is his only option partial/flipper to replace 9? I was thinking of sending him out to prosth because his occlusion is too unstable for me to do anything.
I wanted to send him to ortho first, but don’t know how much they can do. Seems like his only option is leforte surgery perhaps with a combination of ortho. I don’t think he will be open to this, but will pitch an ortho consult regardless as a treatment option.
Any recommendations? Not the best pictures.
https://imgur.com/a/fHD70cb
Edit: Thanks for your input everyone. I’m not smart enough to work up this case, but smart enough to know this case is beyond my capabilities. I’m gonna refer this patient to prosth and have them handle it/work with ortho.

Please be patient with me while I practice setting up boundaries, and try to respect them when I communicate with you about things that I’m uncomfortable with. I have anxiety and abuse-related trauma and standing up for myself is hard.
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Consent Color Chart
— Yes
🟩 This is great, keep going : I’m having a very nice time, absolutely do more of this
🟨 I’m a little hesitant but I think this is okay : go ahead and proceed with where this is going, just be aware I’m not sure if it’s for me yet
— No
🟧 I’m getting overwhelmed, please slow down : it’s alright to continue the roleplay if we shift back into an easier topic
🟥 I really need to stop, this is way too much : the sexual conversation should end here, we might do some aftercare together or agree to stop chatting at this point and deal with it on our own
Feel free to use these too if anything I say is either good or bothers you ^
. .
Kinks
praise*, breeding, cum, rough sex, small pain like biting, anal
. .
Soft Limits
cnc, somno, public sex, freeuse, bondage, harder pain like hitting
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Hard Limits
misgendering, detransitioning, nipple play, degradation**, piss, scat, vomit, incest, involving anyone underage, involving animals, extreme violence***
.
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*: tell me things like that I’m good boy, that I’m pleasing you, that I’m doing well
**: don’t call me a slut, whore, bitch, fuck toy, worthless, ugly, fat, or similar phrases
***: no guns, knives, weapons, permanent damage
.
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Block List (I will block you if you do any of these things)

• asking for pictures of my chest without a binder, or referring to it as breasts, tits, or boobs.
• commenting on my self harm. it’s a coping skill, not sexual. I’m in therapy and take prescribed antidepressants. i don’t want you to say what you think of my cuts and scars, whether you think they’re hot or gross, don’t tell me. do just let me know though if you would like me to sensor them by scribbling over that part of the photo before sending you nudes
• commenting on my weight

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Include a blue emoji and your age in your first message to show you at least opened this and scrolled down.

Hey Breasties - I'm leaning in here to get some support as I'm struggling. Was diagnosed with high grade widespread DCIS 2/5, had UMX on affected left breast (didn't want to wait for plastics to coordinated the surgery months out, so just had cancerous side removed.) Pathology showed dirty margins, so I was able to get back into the surgery queue for 4/29 - resection of left cancer side to get clear margins (which did come back clear), removed right breast prophylactically, put in tissue expanders on both sides.
I suffered through the first 10 days post-op (so much pain, so hard to sleep or be comfortable awake), then developed a ranging infection in the left side which had been resected, so lots of trauma to this breast area.
Went into the ER Friday night of Mother's Day Weekend, was admitted, IV antibiotics to try and rebound from infection - no dice - went into surgery Saturday afternoon to have the expander removed and tissues flushed out. I had to make the decision on the spot whether or not to go totally flat and wait 8-12 in line for diep flap, or keep the right expander and try again. I went with keep the right expander and hope for the best with implants.
So that's three surgeries in 8.5 weeks.
My plastic surgeon explained that I could start doing fills on the right (tomorrow would be the first, my expanders were place flat with no saline because I didn't have room), get right breast where I want it over three months, which is how long I'll have to wait before getting a new left TE, but they could put in my permanent right implant when they place the left expander. Then I'd have lefty filed over...however many weeks to match the right, then a final exchange for implant on the left.
I'm pretty devastated to be lopsided again....and through the summer with swimsuit season and my 25th wedding anniversary (I was hoping we'd perhaps vacation somewhere warm). But now...argh. Just feel so deflated (bc comedy) to be uniboobed again...as long as I have no other infections or issues, this cancer will include 6 surgeries, plus I have a bonus hysterectomy to schedule amidst all the plastic surgeries. If I want nipples, add one more surgery. (that's 8 surgeries)
I'm self-employed - writer, coach, musician - but am not holding it together very well. Trying to coach people when you're falling apart is tough.
I'm interested in hearing from anyone who has made it to the other side through TE infections to a completed chest they like with implants (or did you give up on TE>implants and go with Diep Flap). I'm just now hearing about the 25% failure rate of TE> Implants. Somehow I missed that before going for it.
I'm listening...

So i’ve been on spironolactone ~1 year, i started when i was on nexplanon (implant in the arm BC) but i got it taken out in Feb of this year because it was making my breasts leak. Anyways ever since, ive dropped dosages, and ive had 2 normal cycles in a row since then, but for this month its been 2 days delayed and im not sure what to think. I had intercourse on the 4th after my ovulation phase (condom broke but he immediately pulled out once it broke and he put a new one on right after) so i guess im not sure if its late due to the spirno or if it could possibly be something else? i’ve taken 5 pregnancy tests and all came back negative, i even used different brands just to be sure. (I know spironolactone messes with your periods, but considering it’s been 2 months consistent idk what to think)

So i’ve been on spirno ~1 year, i started when i was on nexplanon (implant in the arm BC) but i got it taken out in Feb of this year because it was making my breasts leak. Anyways ever since, ive dropped from 100mg to 50mg, and ive had 2 normal cycles in a row since dropping dosages, but for this month its been 2 days delayed and im not sure what to think. I had intercourse on the 4th after my ovulation phase (condom broke but he immediately pulled out once it broke and he put a new one on right after) so i guess im not sure if its late due to the spirno or if it could possibly be something else? i’ve taken 5 pregnancy tests and all came back negative, i even used different brands just to be sure. pls help 😭

Content Warning:Mentions of Child Abuse & Gore
They called me a colic baby, meaning I was a seemingly healthy baby that was distressed for an unknown reason. The fits of crying mostly dissipated by six months, but they'd crop up every now and then into toddler-hood. When I became capable of babbling a few words, I would summarize my pain in a few words: belly hurt. Belly HURT!
My parents didn't have much money, but they took me to the doctor for a checkup anyway. After running a physical exam and blood test, they determined that I was merely an excessively gassy little girl and should probably eat a more gut-friendly diet. They also prescribed some medicine which would eliminate the gas and relieve my pain.
It was from that moment on that my parents gave me the nickname "Gas Girl" (which I despised). The name stuck for several years, and anytime I'd get a little stomach ache my mom or dad would say, "uh, oh. It's not Gas Girl returning, is it?" I'd glare at them with my arms folded and pout, saying, "I'm not Gas Girl. I'm Wonder Girl!" My parents would share a look, then burst out laughing. Just as I was about to shout a retort, my dad would open up his arms and bend down in that familiar pose which signaled liftoff, and all my childish rage detached like a racing sticker as I leaped into my dad's arms and he flew me around the living room shouting "Who is it? It's Wonder-girl! Here to save the day from Gas Girl!"
Anyway, just as the nickname wore off, the pain returned. I was about 7 or 8 when I had my first big episode. I was in second grade, and the class was cutting out shapes. The pain came on so suddenly I remember lurching back and falling out of my seat. The next few hours were a blur of adults: my teacher, the nurses, the principal, my parents. I remember how cold and alone I felt despite being surrounded by grown ups, and my stomach hurt so much I was crying pretty much nonstop.
My dad bought a bunch of OTC medicine to try and settle what he thought was a really bad gas episode. My mom laid at the side of my bed and did bicycles in the air with me. Hours passed in pain as my adolescent imagination conjured up images of an evil little elf blowing thousands of bubbles in my belly. I consciously pictured myself popping them, but every time I did, more were blown. My dad scheduled a doctor's appointment for the next morning, and my mom stayed at my side until I was able to fall asleep sometime late in the night.
I dreamed vividly a horrific nightmare. I was strapped to a black, metal box. A surgeon donning blue scrubs with white gloves and a mask entered the space in my peripheral vision. The air was cold but crisp, as if every bit of dust had been scrubbed out of existence. I could feel my breathing, my heartbeat, even my skin. The doctor stepped forward and I could see the distortion of a smirk in the folds of his mask. I expected him to say something, to tell me what he wanted, but instead he lifted my shirt so my belly was exposed. "It's cold", I said in a mumbly voice. He lifted his hand in the air, and I saw behind it off in the back of the room was what looked like the glass wall of an aquarium. I was confused for a second, but only a second. The surgeon plunged his hand into my stomach like a spear, splitting through the flesh as if it were the skin of a ripe fruit. The previously silent man began to cackle like a maniacal villain as I nearly passed out from the pain. I felt his fingers swimming through my guts like parasitic worms. My body shook as cold sweat and blood began to ooze from my pores. I wanted to scream but I couldn't make a sound. I could only lay there, paralyzed, as the evil doctor explored my insides.
Somehow I lost consciousness in the dream, but when I woke up, the memory came flooding back, and I screamed with all the force of a thunderstorm. My parents skipped the appointment and rushed me to immediate care, but by the time we arrived, the pain was gone. I explained my dream to the doctor, but he said it was normal to dream up reasons for the pain. They recommended a CT scan to screen out the possibility of an ulcer or internal bleeding. Despite my parents' scarce savings, they agreed to run the test. However, something deeply entrenched in my mind thought of the dream with the surgeon and I protested. "I don't want a test!" I screamed. "But, honey, how are we going to know what's wrong?" replied my mom. "Nothing's wrong now. I don't want a test."
Looking back now on my persistence, it should have been obvious that there was something wrong with me, but my parents, who were thinking of their finances, allowed themselves to acquiesce to my demands. The pain would continue into and throughout my teenage years, and the one benefit that I can credit to it was that it taught me how to endure pain and hide it well before puberty started. Compared to my childhood cramps, period cramps were around a B+. Very bad, but not end of the world bad. However, they'd stick around more reliably, and eventually the two began to combine until I could no longer discern between them. Occasionally I would have a nightmare and wake up with a pain that was a little higher in my stomach, almost approaching my chest, but it would always disappear by breakfast time, and the chaos of a teenage girl's life would once again reassert itself in the form of an outfit that didn't look quite right or the memory of every word of a conversation with a guy I liked or how my teacher was out to get me. Basically, I had become normal.
And then two weeks after I turned 16, my dad passed away from heart failure. Apparently the stress from a paycheck-to-paycheck life in sales added onto a bad diet and a penchant for alcohol was a recipe for disaster. He was only 49. I was crushed.
The weeks and months following his funeral were filled with teenage anger and resentment. I directed most of it at my mom, who I held accountable for not being strong enough to step up and help with the bills. One day, when I was searching the drug cabinet for some painkillers to deal with some bad cramping, I noticed a new prescription for a drug with a really long name. I looked it up. It was an antidepressant. From that moment on I stopped giving my mom shit, but I grew a bit distant from her. I started spending a lot more time with my friends. I became reckless, adopting a drinking habit and unsafe sex practices. I smoked a bit but I didn't really like it. I guess I was just trying to find a way to move on, as naive as it was.
Fast forward to my present situation, and I'm a college student. A junior to be exact. I ended up scrounging up enough money from working two restaurant jobs to see a therapist on my own dime, and managed to make peace with my mom before leaving. We both talked out all of our trauma and cried together, and from that moment on, I haven't had a drink. About six months ago I got on the pill. I was starting to see one guy consistently and I wanted to be safe, but also I wanted to know what it felt like to not have stomach cramps anymore. It was freeing. I remembered my dad lifting me up into the air as a child, and I figured it kinda felt like that. I still cry thinking about him, although I don't let anyone see.
Anyway, about a week ago I started having really bad pain again, but this time it was in my chest. I would wake up in my apartment (I share a 3-bedroom with some friends from the college) with heart palpitations. My heart felt like a snake had wrapped around it and was trying to choke it out. The pressure would give way to a burst of fast ba-dum's, then settle, then start again. I remembered my dad's prognosis and started to get really scared, so I scheduled an appointment with the on-campus doctor for the next day through the online health platform.
They told me that chest pain is no joke and scheduled to have me scanned at a nearby hospital. This was four days ago. My boyfriend, Kevin, drove me there even though I said I'd be fine going alone. I think I already knew our relationship wasn't going to work out long term, so I was kind of checked out. I felt bad about it though because Kev is actually a really good person, but our personalities just don't match. He's very introverted and doesn't like to go out, whereas I thrive in group settings. Anyway, he drove me and I ended up getting an X-ray. The doc came in to share the results and I was immediately put off by the dubious expression on his face.
"What do you mean the images are blurry?" I asked.
"Well, it's just… that. They're blurry. It's very unusual for this to happen unless you have a pacemaker or some other device implanted. Do you know if you have something like that?"
"No, never," I said with a quaver in my voice. For some reason I thought back on my childhood dream with the surgeon and felt the urge to vomit.
"Well, let's run a CT scan and see if we can make anything out." He soothed.
Normally the CT and MRI dock was booked for a week out but the doctor happened to have an open space for me that same morning, so I waited about an hour and then got in the big tube machine that took pictures of my chest and abdomen. He said he should have the results by Thursday. That was Yesterday.
I was driving onto campus for my 9AM class when I got the call.
"Hello, this is Dr. **** calling for Josie **** ." (names redacted for privacy reasons)
"Oh, yes, this is Josie," I said and fit the phone between my shoulder and ear as I tried to find a comfortable posture."
"Yes, hello," the male doctor said in grave way which made me feel like this wasn't going to be a short call. "I wanted to see if you were available to come in today for some more tests."
"More tests?" I asked. "What about the first ones?" Images of blocked heart valves and cancer presented themselves on my mental screen.
"Yes, well, I wanted to discuss the results with you in person. There was a bit of a … well, an inconsistency, and I didn't want to upset you—"
"Upset me!?" I blurted, my free hand flying out over the steering wheel, swerving my car toward the curb. I corrected, then lowered my voice, "sorry, I don't mean to be …" be, what? This is completely absurd. "Could you at least give me some indication of what's wrong with me? I'm just kind of panicking here."
The doctor was quiet for a moment, then returned. "Sorry, Josie, I didn't mean to spook you. Both the X-ray scan and CT scan are picking up interference which is unusual. It's possible it's just a flaw on our end, so that's why we wanted you to come back in—to do an MRI and really verify what the issue is. This one would be free of charge and we'd get you results same-day as we feel bad about the issues with the machinery. Do you think that would be possible?"
I took a deep breath. I still felt uneasy, but at least now there was some kind of explanation I could lean on. "Okay, yeah, I can come in. I have class until 9:50AM, but I can drive over after and be there around 10:15, 10:20-ish. Would that work?"
"That would work great. We'll see you then."
I spent the whole of my communications class thinking about what could be wrong with me, doodling my ideas down on a notebook. Heart disease. Cancer. Some kind of peptic ulcer. Maybe it was the pill? The drinking? Was this some kind of cosmic retribution? I didn't know.
An hour later I was back at the hospital. I expected to be ushered into the MRI prep room, but instead I found myself in one of the normal patient rooms, sitting upright on a bed. The nurse did the preliminary height and weight measurements and medical history. I asked about the MRI, but all she said was that the doctor will discuss that with me. Before she left, she handed me an assessment to fill out. It seemed to be a list of questions about the medical history of my family, specifically about our mental health. Does your family have a history of Schizophrenia? Have there been any instances of domestic abuse? Did you have vivid nightmares as a child? Etc. I marked the boxes, then set the clipboard down.
At last I heard the fated knock on the door, and my doctor came in holding an Ipad. The door was only open for maybe a couple seconds, but I could see multiple nurses and technicians peeking their heads in my direction, as if they were trying to catch a glimpse of me. That can't be good.
"Hello, Josie," the doctor said and clicked on the little TV screen. He didn't even look at me. I could see dried sweat along his hairline.
"What's happening? I thought I was going to get an MRI…"
"Well, actually we aren't sure if that's the best course of action." the doctor said as he clicked the screen and pulled up a series of images.
"Can you look at me, please?" I snapped.
The doctor raised his head and tilted it in my direction. His mouth was agape, his eyes wide as if only realizing I was here at that moment. "I'm sorry, Josie." He took a deep breath, preparing some kind of canned presentation, then let it out and said, "It's just easier if I show you." He pulled up the first global image from what I presume was my CT scan. It was a front-shot. I could see my organs as little geometric shapes and—
"Wait, what is that?" I asked, pointing at the screen.
"That—is the problem."
I spent the next minute just staring at it. Somehow, in between all of the organs, there was some kind of cylindrical mass—I thought it was my spine at first but quickly realized it was too wide and there weren't any vertebrae—and at the head of the mass was, very clearly, a hand.
"What the fuck is that" I said in a tone that was at once forceful and pointed.
"It appears," the doctor started, looking away again. "It appears that there is a mechanical hand in your chest cavity. It's attached to a piece of a forearm that begins at your stomach, here," he pointed, "and continues up until, well, it appears to be holding your heart."
Ten seconds passed in silence. Then I was hit with the equivalent of the laughing gas they give you at the Dentist's office. All the blood in my body surged to my forehead and I felt light as the very thin hospital air. "Hahaha!!! You expect me to believe that? What kind of fucking clown-show hospital is this? Am I at the circus?' I stood up and started toward the door. The doctor body blocked me.
"Please, Josie, that isn't it."
"Oh?" I said sarcastically. "Please, do tell."
"Could you have—oh, okay, okay,, let me explain."
I stood there with my arms folded, unrelenting.
"When we first had you do the X-ray there was a big blur. It was clear that something was blocking us from seeing the image. The CT scan was able to take some actual pictures of it. I know it seems, well, unusual—"
"Wait, what the hell is that?" I asked, gesturing toward the clipboard.
"What?" The doctor looked disoriented.
"Those questions. Are you trying to insinuate that my mom and dad implanted some kind of mechanical hand in my body?"
"No," the doctor raised his hands. "We were just trying to gather some more information… Josie," the doctor said as I once again headed for the door handle. "Please, there's more. From the blood test we conducted it seems that you're pregnant."
I was so done. "I'm on the pill, asshole." I sneered and swung the door open, ignoring the sets of eyes trained on me as I scurried to the end of the hall, ran outside, and climbed into my car. I expected to see a bunch of people in white coats running after me, but there was no one. I started the car as tears began to stream from my eyes. Fuck them, I thought and sped out of the parking lot.
I couldn't return to my apartment. I ended up driving for hours, working my way back to my hometown. I spent a long time thinking about all the things I had experienced growing up. The stomach pain, slowly working its way up to my chest. The vivid dream of the surgeon feeling around my guts. Was it really that crazy to think my body was trying to tell me something? Why had I decided against having a CT scan all those years ago? Why now? I didn't—couldn't believe what was happening to me. But was that just because I didn't want to believe it?
And then there was the pregnancy. I was definitely on the pill. I knew it wasn't Kev's, or at least I was pretty sure it wasn't. We haven't been having sex for a little over a month now. But did that mean that something else didn't impregnate me? My paranoia was at its peak. I considered the possibility that maybe it was me that was Schizophrenic. None of this made any sense. I wanted my dad. I missed him. I considered going to see my mom, but despite making up with her, I still didn't feel close enough to her to own up to everything. I wanted to be alone—needed to be alone.
I ended up getting a Motel about 10 minutes away from my house. It was around 1AM when I finally opened the door to my room and laid down on the bed. After hours of thinking, a single thought occurred to me like a kind of defense mechanism: if I really am pregnant, I'm not keeping the baby. I want it out.
Just as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard the notification sound go off on my phone, which was odd since I was sure I had set it to vibrate. I turned and grabbed it, unplugging it from its charging dock. I had received a text message from an unknown, 5-digit number: 66669. This is what it said.
66669: If you terminate my baby, I will crush your heart.
***
I haven't been able to sleep since. It's now 6AM and I've drafted this as a cry for help. Please, let me know what you think I should do. I'm too "in it" to see the details clearly. I feel alone and scared and paranoid. Someone or something is watching me. Maybe it has been my whole life.

I just had my breast implants out. I was a 32G and now I’m a 32A/b bottom heavy to the extreme but they are like the boobs you see in national geographic where they are very flat and down to my belly button. What am I going to need that will look sexy but not have my skin very crinkly? Like a half cup? Bottom projection? I’m really excited about being about to wear cute bras again. Also, where do I find the forms for the itty bitty titty committee? Is that online or do I do that in person?

If you're interested in baby registry boxes but don't know which one to try or how to even sign up for them I have some info for you here! I got boxes/bags from Target, Walmart, Amazon, Hey Milestone, Babylist, and Similac and I'm still waiting for a box from Enfamil. I'm not an influencer or someone paid by these companies I just really like surprise boxes of stuff. I have pictures but I don't know how to add them. Anyway onto the lists.
Target:
How to get: This appears to have changed recently. According to target.com you join the Target Circle rewards, create a baby registry, add 10 items, and spend $10 from registry (either yourself of someone else). You have to pick up the bag in store with a barcode they give to you and it can be somewhat difficult to get since supplies are limited. When I did this in March all I had to do was create a registry and then go to the store to pick up the bag.
Items:
1 Philips Avent Natural Bottle
1 Dr Browns Anti-Colic Bottle
3 pack sample of Huggies Special Delivery Diapers
2 pack sample of Millie Moon Diapers
16 count sample of Huggies Natural Care wipes
10 count sample of Honest plant based wipes
10 count sample of Water Wipes
2 count sample of Lansinho breastmilk storage bags
2 count sample of Lansinho disposable nursing pads
1 count sample if Boogie Wipes
1 sample of Dreft scent booster for laundry
1 sample of Palmers stretch mark lotion
1 sample of Dapple bottle and dish soap
1 sample of Pedialyte
1 sample of Auqaphor baby ointment
1 sample bottle of Aveno baby wash and shampoo
1 sample tube of Triple Paste diaper rash cream
All coupons are through Target Circle rewards
Walmart:
How to Get: Sign up for a registry at Walmart. Click this link https://walmart.cesampling.com/babybox/soldout and fill out the form and it would be shipped to you for free. Unfortunately these boxes have been sold out since last year but maybe they will restock. I only got one because my OB’s office gave it to me at my first appointment. You’re not missing much by not getting one.
Items:
1 Dr Browns Anti-Colic Bottle
3 pack sample of Huggies Special Delivery Diapers
16 count sample pack of Huggies Natural Care Wipes
1 sample of Arm & Hammer baby laundry detergent
1 sample bottle of Johnson’s head to toe wash and shampoo
1 sample bottle of Aveno baby wash and shampoo
1 pack of milestone month cards
Insert cards (not coupons) for Gerber, WaterWipes, Liquid IV, Aquaphor, and Arm & Hammer
Amazon:
How to Get: Have an Amazon prime account. Create a baby registry. Add 10 items to your baby registry. Purchase $10 worth of items from registry (either yourself or someone else). Wait for the items to ship and then add the baby welcome box to your shopping cart. There should be a $35 coupon applied when you go to checkout.
1 Newborn Swaddle size 36in x 36in
1 Amazon Essentials 3-6 month onesie
1 Mam Anti-Colic Bottle and Pacifier set
1 Bessie's Best lactation cookie
2 count sample of Lansinho breastmilk storage bags
2 count sample of Lansinho disposable nursing pads
1 sample of Aquaphor baby ointment
1 sample of Palmers skin therapy oil
1 sample of Palmers stretch mark lotion
50% off coupon for Shutterfly
10% off coupon for Amazon Essentials (items must be from a list compiled by Amazon)
$20 off coupon for Tylenol Smart check digital ear scope
$200 off Factor meal delivery service
Inserts (not coupons) for Palmers, Aquaphor, Baby Breeza, Mam bottles/pacifers
A card booklet with ideas for the registry
Hey Milestone:
How to Get: Hey Milestone is not a registry. They make three different baby boxes you can choose from and you just pay shipping. If you’re considering multiple boxes it’s best to get them all at once because the shipping will be cheaper. Shipping for one was $12.99. I only got one, the pregnancy box, so I can't tell you what you may expect from the other two. Check them out here: https://www.heymilestone.com/
Items:
1 full size Boudreaux’s Butt Paste butt barrier
1 Herobility 5 oz bottle
1 sample pack of Bamba peanut butter puffs
1 Kudos diaper with 10% off coupon
1 Dr Browns pacifier
1 Nanobebe hospital go-bag kit (includes pacifier, 2 breastmilk bags, 2 nursing pads, 20% off coupon)
2 count sample of Lansinho breastmilk storage bags
2 count sample of Lansinho disposable nursing pads
1 Preggie Pop
1 Bessie’s Best lactation cookie
10 count sample pack of Zahler prenatal vitamins
1 sample of Bella B nipple butter
1 sample of Bella B cradle cap be gone shampoo
1 sample tube of Eucerin baby sunscreen
1 count sample of Jack n Jill baby gum and tooth wipes
1 nail file with info for Mother’s Milk Bank
10% off coupon for Boudreaux’s Butt Paste butt barrier from Amazon
$130 off good chop meat delivery
16 free meals from Hello Fresh
$1 Bamba snacks
1 insert for Forsite 350 genetic testing
Babylist:
How to Get: This one is by far the most involved process. Create a registry on Babylist. Enter in your baby’s due date, you address, and first and last name. Add three items from the Babylist shop. Add three items from other stores (you can do this by putting a plug-in from the website on Chrome or Firefox. More detailed instructions on the website). Complete 40% of your registry checklist (you can do this by just checking items off yourself). Spend $30 from your registry at the babylist store (either yourself of someone else). The $30 must be spent on items from the babylist store! Once these things are done you can pay $8.95 for shipping or you can chose simple shipping and it’s free.
Items:
1 Herobility 5oz bottle
1 Philips Avent Naturel bottle
1 Monica and Andy baby hat
1 Small Story 0-3 month onesie and 20% off coupon
1 Parker bib with 15% off coupon and a chance to win $200 giveaway
1 Nanobebe first pacifier
2 pack sample of Kudos diapers with 10% off coupon
2 pack sample of Healthy Baby diapers
2 pack sample of Parasol diapers
10 count sample of Honest plant based wipes
10 count sample of Water Wipes
10 count pack of motif medial breastmilk bags and 15% off coupon
1 sample tube of Noodle & Boo body wash and shampoo
1 sample tube of Noodle and Boo lotion
1 Bessie’s Best lactation cookie
2 count sample of Lansinho breastmilk storage bags
2 count sample of Lansinho disposable nursing pads
1 sample of Wellements probiotic and $15 off coupon
1 sample tube of Aquaphor baby ointment
1 sample of Desitin
1 sample of Palmers skin therapy oil
1 sample of Palmers stretch mark lotion
1 sample of Bird&Be vitamins and 15% off coupon
1 sample bottle of Vivi & Bloom body wash and shampoo
2 samples of Triple Paste diaper rash ointment and $2 off coupon
Coupon for a free onesie from Oso and Me ($32 value)
Coupon for free 8x8 photo book from Shutterfly
Coupon for a free will from Trust & Will
Coupon for free Swaddle from Little Unicorn
1 insert for babylist health for information on free breast pumps
Similac
How to Get: Sign up to my Similac rewards at https://www.similac.com/rewards.html . It’s completely free. I do recommend using an email you rarely use though and don't put in your phone number.
Items:
1 7 oz can of Similac 360 Total Care formula
1 7 oz can of Similac 360 Total Care Sensitive formula
1 sample of Pedialyte
Coupon for 1 free session at JC Penny portraits and 1 free 8 x 10 print
Coupons for $50 off Similac formula (They will send more in the mail once you use these)
16 free meals from Hello Fresh
Coupon for 50% off Shutterly
Coupon for $20 off Lovevery play kits
Coupon for $3 off Pedialyte
A collection of 12 gift cards to places I’ve never heard of ranging from $60-$30
Enfamil:
How to get:
Sign up for Enfamil Beginnings at https://www.enfamil.com/baby-formula-coupons-samples/ . It’s completely free. I do recommend using an email you rarely use and don’t put in your phone number. I’m still waiting on my Wonder Box to come. They tend to ship close to your due date so I may get it soon.
Overall thoughts: I enjoyed the fun of going through the boxes to see what I got. The Walmart one is no great loss to anyone not able to get one. I was disappointed with the Amazon one because I expected it to be a bit better based on what others had gotten. Plus I didn’t get the Dude Wipes people were getting and I was looking forward to them lol. The Babylist box was the best of the bunch, which is good considering the hoops you have to jump through to get it. Hey Milestone was great for the butt paste and bottle alone. I was also really pleased with the Target bag. These are just the things I got and each box/bag may be different.

Pictures 1 and 2: 2 days growth after shaving - chest hair. Picture 3: 4 days growth after shaving - pubic mound hair.
I’ve had 8 sessions with the Diolaze xl laser from inmode.
It’s worked well for my leg hair, I’m probably down around 70%. Brazilian worked great first 2 times then it’s been patchy and little to no progress since then.
The real issue is hormonal areas (face, navel, breast/chest). I have idiopathic hirsutism. No PCOS or any lab work showing increased androgens. But this has not budged whatsoever with the laser. A couple chin hairs permanently gone but the rest is still present after 8 sessions. The chest is bothering me the most. I previously did about 6 sessions of laser in these same hormonal areas with a Lightsheer Duet laser, but it was during Covid and the schedule was pretty irregular, which is why I tried again with regular q6-8 week schedule this time.
My question is - should I switch clinics and use a different type of laser? I have spent so much money already. I also thought of switching to electrolysis for the hormonal areas.

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.