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I used to joke with my husband that I was planning to have breast surgery when I finished nursing. We had laughed hysterically about my desire for surgery because we both knew I was terrified of hospitals and drugs. I was an au naturel granola girl who hadn’t even had caffeine until her mid-30s. I never smoked a cigarette or tried an illegal substance either. Only when I have a migraine do I hesitantly swallow an Advil.

But after my husband asked for a divorce, something inside of me shifted. If I was going back on the market, I needed my before-childbirth body back. Before kids, my breasts were always my standout feature. Not that I showed them off, because I was horribly shy, but because of my petite frame, people couldn’t help but notice my chest. I wasn’t even 5 feet tall, and I was just over 100 pounds, but I had a 32DDDD, according to measurements taken in high school by a saleslady in Victoria’s Secret.