Post-Post-Surgery Update

It's been four months since Dr. Berger worked his magic. So here we go.

Breast Reduction:

The girls look lovely. Scars are still noticeable but fading fast.

Aches have all but disappeared, therefore I am no longer justified in massaging myself thusly and blaming it on pain management. (Localized massage, people, really does work. On so many different levels.) I am now ready to return to the ever-so-wise Certified Fitting Specialist to receive my fabulous new bra size.

Tummy Tuck:

Flat as a pancake, still numb and brand new bellybutton healing nicely.

The itchiness that caused me to grope myself up top has now moved below the waist. Why, in God's name, a four month-old scar is *now* starting to require rubbing is beyond me.

And the rubbing/soft-scratching doesn't look as attractive as it sounds. Speaking of sounds, I do moan like a porn star when trying to will the "poison ivy-like sensations" out of my wound area. Mostly in the shower. Mostly at night.

Becky, her husband, and their impressionable children *love* sharing a house with me and my issues.

Speaking of issues, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the most lingering of surgical side-effects.

The Ass Blow:

Remember how I almost died due to tummy troubles due to antibiotics due to the aforementioned cosmetic surgery? Well, such troubles will not be flushed away.

The good news - as long as I eat yogurt, yogurt, and then again, some more yogurt, I should be able to avoid the afterlife for a while and continue annoying the planet. Yes, folks. Yogurt is saving my life.

Yogurt and Kefir.

And Cottonelle.

Don't worry. Becky's dealing with my moans and groans. Thank God for nineteen bathrooms and an endless supply of toilet paper. Our friendship is relatively safe.

So far anyway.