I sighed as I put on my bra and looked in the mirror.
I hate my boobs,
I thought.
I had always been self-conscious of them, but since having my bub Jose, then three, they were my big body hang-up.
Saggy from breastfeeding, and a small B cup, my boobs were bringing me down.
‘You’re beautiful the way you are,’ my husband, also called Jose, then 29, said.
But it didn’t help. It was 2001 and, aged 28, I decided to get breast implants.
‘Do it!’ my sister, Brooke, then 21, urged.
‘Whatever makes you happy,’ my hubby said.