We were up early Monday morning for a procedure my wife had long considered: breast augmentation. After years of feeling out of proportion, especially as she approached midlife, she decided it was time. She went in a B and came out... well, let’s just say the letter skipped C and doubled. A dream scenario for many men, right? But let me tell you — the recovery is no walk in the park.
We prepared thoroughly. My wife read every blog, post, and TikTok confession from women who’d been through it. Knowing what to expect helped, but nothing quite prepares you for navigating Oxycodone side effects (constipation, we see you). Still, that little pill has been a relief.
Oddly enough, surgeries like this — and her cervical prolapse procedure months earlier — brought us closer. Not in the bedroom sense, but in the quiet, caring, sensual way. I showered her, dried her, even washed her long hair. That last part was a test of focus — my hands doing one thing, my mind... trying very hard to behave. My wife caught my hard-on once pointing right at her face. Classy, huh.
As she healed, our recently established routine return back to normal. I still "supervise" her showers and towel her off. Breaking that habit? Not going to be easy.
Funniest moment? A trip to the pharmacy. I’m on a first-name basis with the staff now. One evening, I confidently told the pharmacist, “Yes, the cream for her vagina.” The pharmacist blinked, then gestured to her cheek, “This one’s for her face.” Turns out Missy had also ordered a Tretinoin night cream. Talk about losing face — and gaining a new nickname, I’m sure.
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