In december I made a decision, based on years of contemplation and google searches, pondering horror stories and success stories and hard medical information and everything in between. I made up my mind, seriously and finally that I was going to see my doctor in january about having breast reduction surgery.

For a long time, for so many reasons, I was against the idea. It seems frivolous, to want surgery just so I can wear bras that fit and not have to worry about the seemingly constant risk of bouncing or spilling right out of my clothes. (Yes. I really do worry about that. A lot.) And, even though my clock is running down, my heart sort of breaks a tiny bit when I imagine closing the door on the possibility of nursing just one more baby.

And I always figured if I could just lose some weight, y’know, they wouldn’t be such a concern. Except, I did lose a bunch of weight, back when Life Was Horrible And I Couldn’t Make Myself Eat. I was tiny. But my breasts didn’t get a whole lot smaller, relative to my frame.

And I started to notice a common thread among the happy successful breast reduction stories I was reading. Chronic shoulder pain, that disappeared after the surgery. Now, my shoulders hurt, every waking moment, and probably most of the sleeping ones too. My shoulders and my neck. Hurt. All. The Time. And I always thought I was tense because I was stressed out, but what if I’ve got that wrong? No question I’m passionate and maybe even high strung in certain contexts (HA!), but (don’t laugh at me), I really am pretty easygoing about most things. (No, I swear!)

Mind made up. I was going on holiday, and soon as I was back, I planned to make an appointment with my doctor.

And then I met a man who saw every curve of my body as a thing of wonder and beauty, who had no problem telling me so. Repeatedly. With a breathless sincerity and reverence that made me shivery with the pleasure of it. He was drawn to every soft, round inch of me, and he made sure I knew it. He reminded me of how I want to feel about my body, that every part of it is acceptable, desirable, and worth cherishing, just the way it is.

Kind of gives a girl on the brink of surgical alteration some pause to reconsider.

Never mind surgery. I’ll try pushups instead.