I've always needed support. Even when I was a budding youngster, it seemed one day I was full and perky and the next slightly saggy. Sure I exercised, but in the years when liberation was in its full glory, who was I to bind up what nature (and women everywhere) demanded to be set free. That and giving birth to my first child at the age of eighteen, didn't help matters.
But I haven't thought much about it. I've always managed to present the girls in a way that, I thought, was most flattering. I've even had some rather nice compliments on them. But when RL so generously offered to pay for surgery to give them a lift, I became a little self-conscious about their appearance. That is until my mammogram the other day. Turns out the "big floppy ones" are the best for that sort of thing.