From The Rack to Rihanna–Will You Help Tammy Out?

Hourglassy‘s very first regular columnist has been super busy since she left us. She’s moved to California and written a song that’s Rihanna-ready. Will you help her song reach Rihanna?

For background and how to help, here’s the email I received from Tammy on Monday:

I wrote a song with some of my super talented friends that would be PERFECT for Rihanna…but we haven’t had any luck getting it to her the traditional way…so we’re going rogue. We created a website- and we need your help spreading the word! Our goal is to catch the attention of RIRI herself by inundating the internet with this song!! The master plan starts with a tweet directing people to the site http://www.getthissongtorihanna.com and it would be AMAZING if you could help out by tweeting or retweeting (and/or sharing in any way you can think of!) along with me and getting the attention of Rihanna and her loyal superfans.

With your help, we can make this HUGE. If you tweet, tweet. Facebook or email or youtube or soundcloud or snail mail or smoke signals are wonderful too. The website has nifty little buttons at the bottom which make sharing easier.
GET THIS SONG TO @RIHANNA!!! #ririsong #badboys #getthissongtorihanna #GTS2R
THANK YOU!!!!!!!

xoxo

Tammy
P.S. If you’ve got extra special marketing powers and want to be involved in a bigger way (you know who you are…) please don’t hesitate to reach out! Every little bit counts and just think of how cool this will look on your linkedin…

The Rack is Back! — One Year Later

Tammy tweeted “Heading to my one year boob follow up!!!! Viva new boobies!!!!!” a couple of weeks ago, so I HAD to tweet back and ask her to write about it for us.  If you haven’t met Tammy yet, get to know her on The Rack page. For the rest of us, here’s the rest of the story–so far.

I bike to my one year post-op appointment in a tank top and shorts, wearing my favorite bra of the moment, a “full busted” balconette by Paramour. The style is aptly named “Sweet Revenge,” which is what I feel every time I put it on. It’s supportive enough that I can jump around in it, but I feel so sexy in pink and black lace, and I smile to myself every time I ride my bike without a sports bra– I could never have done that a year ago, weighed down physically and emotionally by 34G’s I was squeezing into stretched out 34F bras. Here’s the bra in 34DD. Mine is a 34D, and my girls fit nicely into the cups a lot less of the cleavage shown in this picture.

I lock my bike up down the block from my surgeon’s posh office on 61st street, off Park Ave, an office with a gaudy, gilded lion’s mouth for a bathroom faucet, with framed magazine articles discussing the health benefits of liposuction, where I always feel out of place. The front desk girls recognize me and chirp hello, and I wait about 10 minutes before one of them leads me back to exam room 2, where I’m given a pink gown and told the doctor will be right in. Here I am waiting for my doctor! I have to buy a top or a dress in this color…I love it!

My doctor is in her forties (I think), and I’ve never seen her wearing flats. Even on the day of my surgery, she teetered into the room in 4 inch open-toed sandals, a crisp, fitted summer dress and what appeared to be, through my blurred nearsightedness (I had to take my contact lenses out before surgery), a Burkin bag. Her face is taught, her hair blonde and pin-straight, her breasts clearly augmented, her waist nipped in (maybe with surgery, maybe with a personal trainer named Gunther). She walks in smiling, a first, and holding a digital SLR camera. She says hello, how are you, and walks toward me eagerly to examine her work. Here comes the fun part.

She pulls the left side of my gown away, reaches forward to examine the scarring underneath my left breast. “Nice.” Then the right. She makes a dismayed face. “This scarring is irregular. What happened here?” She’s referring to the raised, pink scars around my right nipple, which formed after the stitches on that side were rejected, causing little pockmarks to open up along the outside of my areola. It happened in August, about a month and a half after my surgery. She was on vacation, and I was referred to another surgeon who cleaned out the oozing wounds and applied surgical tape, telling me that it is not uncommon for one side of the body to heal at a slower rate than the other. Once the sores healed and closed up, they left little pink marks, which thickened over the months, despite applications of scar creams and strips and tape, into keloids. I have olive skin, which is prone to keloid scarring, and we discussed the possibility of irregular scarring before my surgery. My doctor had assured me that the chances of keloid scars forming was very, very slight. “Surgical scars are very thin and precise.”

On the day of my one-year post-op, she stares at my breasts, shaking her head. “I’m really upset about this. Most people don’t come in for a one-year post-op, so I rarely get the one-year pictures. You came, and you have scars. This is technically a bad result.” I laugh. “I think it’s a pretty good result. I feel great, they look great. My back doesn’t hurt anymore.” She sighs. “It was a very large reduction. What size bra are you wearing now?” I tell her 34D. We had originally agreed that the final size would be a C cup, a 4 cup size reduction. She decides I must be purchasing the wrong band size. “You should be wearing a 36C. They’re a C.” I try to explain to her that my rib cage has never measured anywhere near 36″, that at my thinnest I was wearing 32″ bands, and that I’ve lost 15 pounds since last year. She doesn’t seem to hear anything I’m saying. “You should definitely be wearing a 36C.”

I laugh again. In the few times I have met this woman, I have come to realize that she is stubborn, a perfectionist, and, frankly, kind of a bitch. I view my surgery as a life-changing event- it lifted a physical and emotional burden I had been carrying around for years, gave me a renewed sense of self-confidence, and relieved soreness and pain in my neck and back which had been affecting me in more ways than I even knew at the time. Shopping became less discouraging, working out less difficult, walking down the street in a sundress less stressful. Her job as a plastic surgeon, in my eyes, is to emphasize our flaws, to promise instant gratification through nips and tucks and augmentations. Fat? She can fix that. Sagging skin? No more. She makes her living selling youth and confidence, for a pretty, pretty penny.

She takes her pictures, sighing to herself the whole time, and sends a nurse in to inject a steroid into my scars, which might flatten them out a bit. After 3 of these treatments, I can try laser scar surgery to lighten the pink color to a flesh color. She highly recommends it. I agree to the injections because the scars annoy me, a little. When I realized they weren’t fading as fast as the other scars, I got upset. I traded too-big breasts for scarred ones. I was still embarrassed about taking off my bra, but for a different reason. I obsessed and anticipated the grossed-out face my first post-surgery exploit would make when he saw my imperfect nipple. I imagined him asking about it. (This didn’t happen. My boyfriend thinks my breasts are beautiful and perfect, though he laments not having seen the “old ones.” Actually, people compliment my breasts on a daily basis. And more importantly, I love my breasts on a daily basis, which is new for me.  I left my one-year follow up smiling, despite the sour reception my doctor gave my beloved “new boobies” (my two younger sisters started affectionately calling my breasts “new boobies” and “old boobies” after my surgery, and the term has stuck.)

I can pinpoint the moment I realized a reduction was a viable option– and in that moment, I felt relief, without hesitation. Hesitation and worry came later, when I started to discuss the idea with other people. You might remember from my posts that some people around me felt a reduction would be a mistake, and I even remember some women from this community who seemed a little disappointed in me– why was I writing for a confident, feel-good-in-your-body blog if I secretly wanted out of mine? I love this blog, all the amazing women who contribute to it, Darlene and Campbell & Kate and stories of finding the bra that changed everything, the clothes that fit right, the confidence to be proud of a DD+ silhouette. I struggled, in the months leading up to my surgery, feeling like a traitor and a wimp…I felt like I was taking the easy way out, succumbing to some societal pressure to look a certain way, committing breast-icide!  I searched within myself for the root of my discomfort, and decided it was more than vanity, that I was in pain, and that a reduction was best for me.  I don’t think it is the best option for everyone, but it changed my life for the better. No regrets!

 ————————————-

Here I am, today, in a $12 bra ($12!!!!!) I scored on clearance at Marshall’s this week. I can’t find the brand on the tag, which is a bummer because it fits really well. It’s a 34D.  As you can see, even after 1.4 pounds of breast was removed on each side, I still have breast to spare. Hello, body confidence.

Here I am a couple weeks ago in a Victoria’s Secret bandeau bikini. (I have dreamt of wearing a bandeau for YEARS. This was one of my first triumphant post-surgery purchases.) The top is a large. It falls down when I swim in the ocean. It falls down when I move around a lot. It’s a “sunbathing” suit. I am not really a fan of VS, to be honest. Their bras don’t offer enough coverage or support (but you already knew that!). Even post-reduction, I still have a “full” round cupful, and I am consistently disappointed with the narrow, not-enough-space feeling of their products.

Ta-ta for now 🙂

–Tammy

 

The Rack–At the Gym

(The Rack is a weekly Friday column by fit model, bartender, musician and future superstar, Tammy.)

I’ve been on a weight loss crusade recently-cleaning up my diet by counting calories, trimming my portion sizes, and making healthier choices. But diet is only half of the equation, so this week’s post is about everyone’s favorite thing in the world: exercise!

Over the years I’ve gone through dozens of sports bras–my current solution is an old Lilyette “level 3” sports bra– they only go up to DD, and it’s rare that I can find a sports bra with the kind of support this baby has, so I bought it (a couple of years ago) in a 36DD. I’m sure it doesn’t fit me exactly right, but it’s snug, has underwire and thick double-reinforced straps, and I can go running in it (if I want to).

I have a love/hate relationship with running. I was on the cross-country track team before puberty, and I was really fast! I loved the amazing endorphin release I got from running, and the feeling of the wind in my hair as I navigated the trails of the mountain reserve where my coach trained us. Once I hit puberty, my breasts swelled up to a C, then a D, then up and up to their current size of 34F, and running became my least favorite activity in the world. I dreaded doing laps around the football field in high school gym classes, acutely aware of the unwanted attention my breasts attracted, and the painful bouncing that occurred despite my efforts to bind my chest down under 2-3 bras.

My doctor advised against running.  She said the high-impact would tear my breast tissue away from the underlying muscle and cause pain and premature sagging. Whenever I’ve met with a personal trainer, their first comment is that cardio is key in fat burning, and running is generally high on their list of the most effective cardio/fat burning activities, burning 50% more calories than moderate intensity cardio like walking and cycling.

For those of us for whom running is more trouble than it’s worth, here are some of the worthy alternatives I’ve found:

  1. Spinning.  Find a spin class at your local gym and get ready to sweat! My gym offers about 10 classes a week, in the afternoons and evenings for folks with 9-5-ish hours. The classes are generally about 45 minutes to an hour long, and torch 500+ calories with intervals of high resistance “hills” and “sprints.”
  2. Circuit Training. The whole philosophy behind the highly successful “Curves” gyms is circuit training- find a full-body weight training workout routine like this one at bodybuilding.com and move from one exercise to the next without breaks for 30 minutes. You’ll be breaking a sweat without the bounce in no time while building and sculpting yourself into a lean, calorie-torching machine. You can expect to burn an extra 30-50 calories per pound of muscle.
  3. Zumba. The dance aerobics phenomenon that’s sweeping the nation is a fun, full-body workout which spices up traditional dance-aerobics by incorporating latin music and dance, burning 350+ calories per session.
  4. Rollerblading. A pair of rollerblades will run you about $50, but this low-impact, high-speed workout can burn 350-500 calories per hour without the bouncing. I live near NYC’s West Side Highway where there is a great path that stretches from the southern tip of the city to 125th Street–perfect for strapping on my blades and spending an afternoon taking in the incredible Hudson River view. If you’re not a city dweller, you can brave the nearby streets and parks, or find a roller rink where you can skate to some groovy tunes like Jessica Simpson did in this music video.
  5. Bodyrock.tv.  This website will change your life. Founded by an amazing young couple who wanted to challenge themselves to get in better shape, this “home-workout revolution” provides daily routines of 30 minutes or less with little or no equipment needed. On their website you will find over two years worth of workouts, fitness tips, recipes, and a huge international community of users who support and motivate one another to break through plateaus and reach new heights! I can’t say enough great things about this amazing site.

This list is incomplete.  These are just a few workout alternatives that have helped me on my personal fitness journey. Please feel free to comment if you’ve got other ideas about workouts for buxom babes like us!

See you next week.