So I went trotting on downtown today, eager to see how much we could adjust these babies in one fell swoop. Sky's the limit, right? After all, when it comes to The Rack, go big or go home, that's what I always say. Well, at least as of recently.
And in case I didn't mention it often enough, yes, I have adjustable boobages. In theory, that is. Where there's a port underneath, and they can add saline to that to make the girls bigger or smaller. Theoretically.
I meet with Dr. Fine first, who pronounces me bustalicious (okay, at least that was my interpretation), and then he sends in Michelle, his doctorial assistant. What is she, a nurse? Medical technician? I don't want to refer to her as the wrong thing, but basically she's his right-hand woman. She comes in, finds the port, inserts the needle.......moves it around....pokes around some more.....removes the needle.
Michelle: Okay, sorry about this, I'm going to try it from another angle.
Me: No problem! Do what you need to do.
She tries two more times, nada. Apparently the port has turned itself around, the sneaky bastard, so she keeps hitting the back part instead. She sends in the big gun, Dr. Fine. Great. I guess this solidifies my reputation as the Problem Patient. Just what I've always dreamed of - having my plastic surgeon hate me.
So Dr. Fine gives it a shot. Inserts needle, pokes around, nothing. Gives me a shot of local anesthesia, so that he can poke around in there again with the needle and try to pry the port up along its edge. Dig dig dig. Dig. I start laughing.
Me: Sorry I'm laughing, but really, this is just par for the course for me. If anything can go wrong, it will.
Dr. Fine: This usually doesn't happen.
Me: Of course it doesn't! Unless it's me. Really, I'm used to it.
Dr. Fine: Really, this doesn't happen. Very rarely.
Me: Well, I just look at it all as something to write about. My fans expect it of me.
Dr. Fine: That's a good point. It's like singers - what would they have to sing about if their lives were perfect and rosy?
Me: Exactly! That would be my dilemma as well. But nope, not a problem for me AT ALL.
I'm guessing I'm the only patient they've had who's been poked, prodded, etc. and who has basically come in for nothing because there's no adjustments to be made, who's laughed about the whole thing. At least quite that heartily. I'm still snickering when I leave.
And have no fear, my legion of Rack-Unveiling-Awaiting friends. This only means they can't do any adjusting now, but when I go back in April to have the fipple done, they'll remove the ports and then, yes then, adjustments will be mine. And after going to all this trouble? Yeah, I might be going REALLY big.