How much more can I talk about my boobs?
Just kidding, because we all know that boobs can be a never ending conversation. Who doesn't love boobs? It doesn't matter what gender you are or what your sexual preference is, boobs are just fun. Boobs make people smile.
That being said, I'm still stuck at home resting as my breasts heal from reduction surgery. The first few days I was feeling too crappy to think back on the more amusing moments of my surgery, but I'm obviously feeling better because today I'm going to share.
It started about twenty minutes prior to the actual surgery when my doc greeted me. He brought a set of markers with him to draw on my breasts. He had me stand in front of him (he was seated on a chair). I lowered my hospital gown and he took a minute to study my breasts. I'm quite sure he was taking in the awesomeness of my boobs, don't you think?
Then, like an artist, he began sketching on them. Now, I'm not sure what type of games you enjoy in the privacy of your own life with other consenting adults, but this was the first time I've ever had anyone draw on my boobs. It sort of tickled.
I admit, I felt a little awkward at first. Purple, blue … so many choices of color and what did they all mean? Plus, where to focus my attention? Should I stare straight ahead into space, should I look at the lines he was drawing? Should I study the look of concentration on his face as he drew on me?
I decided to strike up a conversation. (Of course, I did!)
"So, is there some sort of method for chopping off boobs?" I asked.
Oh, how I wish I had a picture of his face to show you just then.
He looked startled, then aghast, and then amused all in a matter of a split second.
"No one will be chopping off anything," he replied somewhat defensively.
I gave him a skeptical look.
"I can send you an article about the procedure on email if you'd like a detailed explanation," he offered.
I rolled my eyes and sighed. Clearly, I was not interested in receiving a medical journal document via email.
As he continued drawing, he began describing to me in general terms what he would be doing during the surgery. I interrupted him to emphasize, "I really want perky boobs!"
He actually blushed, and answered, "Of course."
Then he went blah, blah, blahing about the purpose of the reduction being to help my shoulder and blah, blah, blah.
I broke his train of thought by blurting out, "Hey, about my nipples …."
He looked startled again.
"Your nipples?" he asked.
"What do you do with my nipples?" I inquired.
"Your nipples aren't going anywhere," he admonished. "Your nipples stay put."
There was a pause.
"I won't let them leave the room," he assured me with a grin.
I instantly relaxed.
When he was done sketching on me, I pulled up the hospital gown and climbed back on the gurney. The anesthesiologist joined us then.
The anesthesiologist told me he'd be giving me a few different medications in my IV prior to heading to the operating room.
"The first one will make your private parts feel warm, possibly even hot, and very tingly for a few minutes right after I put it in your IV."
I'm not joking, that is exactly what he said.
I burst out laughing (because I'm so mature) and said, "I can't wait, that sounds like a lot of fun!"
My doctor burst out laughing before he could stop himself and everyone, including the anesthesiologist and a few nurses, began giggling. Apparently most patients don't say things like that out loud, but you know everyone must think it, right?
Not a second later, I started squirming on the gurney. My lady bits were on fire!
My doc gave me a knowing look and said, "I always wonder how the medicine knows to go there."
The anesthesiologist waited a moment or two, and then asked, "Done yet?"
(Ladies, we can just imagine what he's like in bed, can't we?)
But, I was indeed done. I was done tingling and feeling hot.
He then began administering a different drug into my IV.
I know this will shock you, but whatever he gave me made me downright giddy. I was HAPPY, and FUNNY, and HEY YOU, YOU'RE MY BEST FRIEND friendly.
They began wheeling me to the operating room. My doctor had momentarily disappeared, but the anesthesiologist and three nurses were accompanying me.
"I'm afraid I'm going to offer the doc a drink of a Buttery Nipple," I blurted out.
My pronouncement was followed by loud guffaws and laughter.
"No, I mean it," I said. I desperately wanted to explain myself but the drugs were whirling through my brain, the room was spinning, and the right words were becoming harder and harder to grasp.
"Do you know what a Buttery Nipple is?" I managed to ask the (still laughing) anesthesiologist.
One of the nurses, understood my struggle.
"It's one of my favorite after-dinner drinks," she assured me.
"We all love Buttery Nipples," the anesthesiologist added and they all burst into new fits of giggles.
The room began swirling more and darken at the edges. Darker, and then darker still. The last thing I heard before I drifted off was the nurse explaining to my doctor my fear of offering him a Buttery Nipple followed by his hearty, deep laughter.
There are variations on the recipe, but here's the traditional and my favorite:
1/2 ounce Bailey's Irish Cream
1/2 ounce Butterscotch Schnapps
1/2 ounce Vodka
© Twenty Four At Heart