Getting Something Off My Chest: Why I’m Choosing Breast Reduction Surgery

My back aches.
My neck is always stiff.
I constantly catch myself standing hunched over, like my body’s trying to fold inward from the weight I carry every single day. There are divots in my shoulders where my bra straps dig in—a silent, constant reminder that something isn't right.

I’m a 36G.

And while the physical discomfort alone is exhausting, what I don’t always talk about is how emotionally heavy it feels, too.

It’s like my boobs walk into every room before I do. I notice the eyes that linger just a second too long before they finally meet mine. The way strangers scan my chest before hearing a word I say. I’ve internalized that gaze, whether I want to or not.

The first thing I do when I get home is take off my bra. Not out of comfort, but out of desperation. I just can’t wear it for one minute longer.

I’ve learned to shrink myself in small ways.
When my friends have girls’ weekends, they try on each other’s clothes and giggle like we’re teenagers again. I sit on the sidelines. At 5'10" with big boobs, nothing ever fits. I can’t shop off the rack. I can’t buy a suit without it being a production. I often leave the fitting room in tears, faced with swimsuits designed for “women like me” that are bulky, matronly, and deeply unflattering.

I don’t feel dainty.
I don’t feel cute.
I feel... big.
I feel bulky.

I feel unseen and too visible at the same time.

And sure, my boobs have served a purpose. They’ve fed both of my children. They’ve filled out some dresses beautifully . They’ve helped my feel “womanly”. I’ve been told they make me look “proportionate,” as if their size balances out my tall frame—like without them, I’d just be a “big girl” instead of a “voluptuous woman.” Does my value only lie somewhere in the ratio between my shoulders and my chest? 

But what if I let go of that narrative?
What if I stopped letting my body be defined by its most attention-getting part?
What if I literally got something off of my chest?

The Breaking Point

There wasn’t a dramatic “aha” moment—no singular event that made me decide. It was more like a slow buildup. A hundred little aches. A thousand glances. A million tiny moments of frustration that eventually screamed, enough.

I realized I didn’t have to keep tolerating the discomfort, the weight, the emotional labor of making peace with a body that was making me uncomfortable.  I didn’t have to keep waiting for it to magically get better. I could make a choice. I could choose me.

Making the Decision

Deciding to have breast reduction surgery wasn’t simple. I wrestled with it. I asked myself hard questions.
Would I regret it?
Would I still feel like myself?
Would people judge me?

But the more I tuned into my body, the more the answer became clear: this is the most loving thing I can do for myself.

I spoke with my doctor. I did the research.I talked to other women who had walked this path. What I found was both comforting and heartbreaking. So many of us are carrying this same weight—silently, uncomfortably, and alone.

This isn’t a decision I made lightly. But it is one I made intentionally.

Reclaiming My Body

This surgery isn’t just about reducing a size. It’s about reclaiming my body—on my terms.
It’s about letting go of discomfort.
Letting go of the unwanted attention.
Letting go of feeling out of alignment with who I am inside.

It’s about choosing freedom.
It’s about choosing confidence.
It’s about choosing alignment—physically, emotionally, and spiritually—in this new season of life.

What I’m Looking Forward To

I’m looking forward to clothes that actually fit—without a tailor, without a meltdown in the dressing room.
I’m looking forward to standing tall without pain.
I’m looking forward to workouts that don’t require three sports bras.
I’m looking forward to trying on a bathing suit and feeling good in my skin—not hidden behind reinforcements.

But most of all? I’m looking forward to feeling like my body reflects who I really am. Not a version of me shaped by other people’s expectations or by what my body has been through—but me, as I choose to be.

To Anyone Who’s Carrying This Too

If you’re reading this and it sounds familiar—if you’ve been carrying physical or emotional weight that no longer serves you—I want you to know that it’s okay to make a change. You don’t have to explain it. You don’t need permission. You’re allowed to want to feel better in your own body.

This surgery isn’t about vanity. It’s about agency.
I’m not losing anything.
I’m gaining space—to move, to breathe, to be.

I’m choosing comfort.
I’m choosing confidence.
I’m choosing me.

Sending you lots of love.

xoxo,

Jess