My mother is unapologetic about her cosmetic surgery. She had work done around the age of fifty: eyebags removed, deep-set creases added to her previously uncreased asian eyelids, wide nose tapered into a button nose, double chin removed and a silicone chin implant to compensate for a surprise lack of chin discovered after the double chin was removed. When she had a hysterectomy, she joked with her surgeon that should any amount of fat be found while they had her open, they were welcome to liposuction it off before they sew her back up. Nowadays her joke is that she is glad she already had all the work done before my daughter/her granddaughter was born; otherwise the child would have inherited her previous features.

Typically, I am the opposite of my mother. I am the Saffy to her Edina Monsoon. And Patsy? Well, that’s my dad. Patsy post-rehab, that is. My mom, though, is still her Absolutely Fabulous self. The last time I saw her she fanagled a photo opp with PNoy (Philippine President Noynoy Aquino) on a flight from SFO to Manila.

Believe me, I don’t Like being Saffy. I have moments of escape much like the decadence alluded to in the episode in Morocco. But for the most part I am a mousy girl, and I am willing to bet you wouldn’t notice me if I walked past you in broad daylight. Ok, maybe I’m not quite willing to bet the house. I do realize I have a low opinion of myself right now so let’s just bet m&m’s.

When I was in theatre school in NYC I once revealed to a group of actresses that I was thinking of getting a boob job. I was extremely self-conscious of my flat chest. I wore these horrible miracle bras from Victoria’s Secret, which not only had the uncomfortable underwire for pushing what little breasts I had upward, they also had a lot of padding to create the silhouette I wished I had. My revelation led to an afternoon of beautiful women, actresses, urging me to feel their breasts. I’ve lost sight of what point they were trying to make. Were they trying to convince me not to get a boob job by showing me that naturally full breasts can be lumpy, hard, saggy, insert unpleasant adjective here? I suppose they succeeded indirectly because I forgot all about getting a boob job and enjoyed the attention instead.

It was Jay who convinced me to ditch the padded bras. Before I dated him, I felt apprehensive when it came time to remove the bra and get in between sheets with a man. I felt like I had falsely advertised boobs where there were none. Here was a man who actually liked small breasts, and preferred them to the pendulous giganticus boobs most men tend to favor. After he posted nude pictures of me online, I learned there were more men like Jay out there. I learned I was beautiful just the way I was. I realized I didn’t need to change a thing. I set my perky nipples free.

Eventually I got my big boobs when I became a mother. They were so raging huge I couldn’t fit into any of my clothes. During the first week or so after giving birth I wore Jay’s shirts and overalls. After my breasts got used to supply and demand with my baby, they trimmed a little. I loved having big boobs. I loved being milky. Too bad I didn’t have more time to show it off back then. As my kid shed her dependence on me, I too shed the mom boobs. Now I have more time, but less boobs.

Getting naked online has helped me appreciate what I have. At every stage of my adult life I have found people who made me feel beautiful and courageous. It has shaped my perception of my body and myself. It has helped me find confidence in my real life. It has given me a little secret something to daydream about as I live the daily mundane. So I thank you for Liking me, and for helping me Like me.