In 2010, after a 17-year marriage, my husband asked for a divorce, saying he couldn’t be married anymore.

We had two sons, 14 and 16, not quite two years apart, whom I had nursed over four years straight. My once-perky breasts weren’t the same after. Whose are? They weren’t terrible , just more deflated, like a helium balloon the day after a birthday party.

I used to joke with my husband that I was planning to have breast surgery when I finished nursing. We had laughed hysterically about my desire for surgery because we both knew I was terrified of hospitals and drugs. I was an au naturel granola girl who hadn’t even had caffeine until her mid-30s. I never smoked a cigarette or tried an illegal substance either. Only when I have a migraine do I hesitantly swallow an Advil.

But aft

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