Her whole life, Jessica Matlin wished
for smaller boobs. But once she got
them, her body quickly betrayed her
I
had boobs before I could even do
long division. Even at the age of
five, I had those fat little mounds.
In Year 3, when the kids on the bus
spotted my training bra – the first
they’d ever seen – I screamed, red-
faced, “It’s an undershirt!” Then I had
a good cry in the guidance counsellor’s
office. By Year 7, I was a full-blown
C-cup, which put me on most girls’ shit
list. As a D-cup in high school, I was a
pro at ignoring guys’ pervy stares.
By Year 11, I was sobbing in the
Myer lingerie section, sifting through
the DD offerings. “I just don’t know
where this gene came from,” my mum
said, perplexed. “Must be your father’s
side. They’re Russian.”
I thought about having a breast
reduction and, while
I was in uni, spilling
out of a DDD bra,
I applied to have the
procedure through
my insurance. When
the approval letter
finally arrived, I felt
like I’d just broken
out of jail.
Surgery was
intense. Post-op, my
boobs itched from
the inside, and I had
to sleep with ice packs on my chest. But
I rarely complained, because I was so
elated. Once my boobs settled down,
they were perfect 12Cs, and looked like
J-Lo’s in that famous Versace dress. (I’d
shown the doc the pic for reference.)
The first year after the op, I was
on a natural high. I remember bounding
up the stairs to my friend’s apartment
wearing a black cami – no bra and zero
bounce. I bought loads of sporty Calvin
Klein bralets. And since having smaller
boobs made me realise that I wasn’t
actually fat – my DDDs had made me
feel matronly – I’d started to hit the
gym and eat a lot better.The kilos melted away and I came
out of my shell. I began saying what I
thought, owning my very silly sense of
humour and going out with dudes I’d
previously considered out of my league.
I understood that cheesy line formerly
obese people say in advertorials after
losing half their body weight: “I had
a new lease on life!”
But two years after my breast
reduction, I started feeling “the creep”.
It happened the way it does if you’ve
ever put on weight. You feel yourself
getting bigger but swear it’s just from
the sodium in last night’s takeaway or
PMS... anything. My arms had started
brushing the outer edges of my boobs,
and I felt gross if I didn’t put on a bra
first thing in the morning. I’d also find
myself slouching my
shoulders to disguise
my true size, I had
amassed a closet of
drapey black tops,
and I got quieter.
(I’ll admit that I was
always struggling
with 5kg after uni,
but it seemed my
boobs were steadily
growing, whether I
was having a skinny
or a heavy year.)
When I went to buy some new
bras, a salesperson offered to measure
me. Mimi. I’ll never forget her name,
because I was staring at her name tag
when she delivered the blow: “You’re a
12DD, love.” Before she could even coil
up her measuring tape, I started to feel
claustrophobic. I knew I’d gotten bigger,
but this was practically back to square
one. It was like I was possessed by The
Girl With Big Boobs.
How could this have happened?
My surgeon, Dr Michael Pecoraro, had
only seen this happen about four times
in 20 years. He explained the science
behind it: “One of the reasons somewomen have macromastia [the medical
term for extremely large breasts] is that
their breast tissue has an exaggerated
response to oestrogen, the hormone that
stimulates breast growth.” He said it
may be hereditary, and for some women
even if you remove the breast tissue, “the
remaining tissue can still have that
response to the circulating oestrogen”.
I still wanted a second operation,
even though the obvious question hung
in the air: would this happen again?
Dr Pecoraro said there’s no way
to predict whose breasts will grow back;
turns out I was just unlucky. “It’s very
unlikely it would happen again,” he said,
explaining that at 27, the chances were
much slimmer than they were when I
was 20, when my oestrogen levels were
especially active. With zero hesitation
I booked myself another appointment,
forking out the savings I’d squirreled
away over the years.
I knew what to expect from Dr P
(the J-Lo, thanks!), but I was surprised
by people’s reactions when I told them
I was going in for round two. While a
few were supportive – they’d seen how
self-conscious my big boobs made me- others looked at me with big blinking
eyes, asking if I had tried “one of those
minimisers.” Some implied that going
for plastic surgery once was pretty vain.
Twice? Well, that was just indulgent, in
a Real Housewives sort of way. But the
worst offenders were people offering me
earnest, life-coachy rhetoric like, “Don’t
you think this is a sign that this is how
your body is meant to look?”
I ignored all of it. Having lived
with both big and small boobs, I know
what feels right for me.
“I knew I'd gotten
bigger, but this was
practically back to
square one. It was
like I was possessed
by The Girl With
Big Boobs”PHOTOGRAPHY BY FABIO HEIZENREDER
Boobs do what now?!
What: It is possible (although rare) to
experience regrowth after a breast
reduction. This is called hypertrophy.
Why: This is because living glandular
tissue, although reduced, remains in
the breasts. The main causes of post-
op hypertrophy are weight gain, age
(oestrogen levels are higher in young
women, making regrowth more likely),
menopause, pregnancy and medication
that a ects hormone levels. #COSMOPOLITAN June 2015 65