A few days ago, my wife celebrated her birthday in a unique way—we went boob shopping. That’s right. She decided it was time to treat herself to something a little extra in the chest department. Now, if you ask me, she doesn’t need any enhancements. Back when we first started dating, I would've guessed she was rocking a solid C-cup. Turns out, padded bras are magicians. And honestly? The real thing was even better—natural, soft, and beautiful in its own right. Plus, I was more focused on her gorgeous 2 1/2 inch diameter areolas.
After her cervical prolapse surgery, I started noticing her researching cosmetic procedures—first a facelift, then breast augmentation. Some might shy away from doing these things, but for her, it’s all about feeling confident, sexy, and fully herself. I get it. My mom went through her own glow-up years ago, complete with eyelid surgery and a surprise boob job that I unfortunately discovered mid-hug.
So, off we went to the consultation. The nurse handed my wife a pair of disposable panties and a tiny black robe. Watching her change into that outfit? Let’s just say I had to adjust myself quite often.
The doctor was kind, thorough, and professional. He talked us through the options, from discreet incisions to possible liposuction add-ons. And then came the implant sizing—aka the great chicken cutlet comparison. She went big. Double D big. And wow—she looked amazing. Her reflection said it all: this wasn’t about vanity, it was about self-love.
She bumped up her surgery date to next month. Recovery’s only two weeks, and she’ll be ready to take on her next work trip with confidence. As for me? Let’s just say I was ready to celebrate right then and there… but birthday calls from family had other plans. Still, best birthday ever—we got new boobs.
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