Breast implant removal is something that most ladies in the adult industry won’t even consider, and in fact fear undergoing due to implant rupture or some other emergency. But it’s a procedure I was eager to have to remove the implants I’d gotten in 2004 after dancing for four years. Like many other girls, I saw the implanted dancers as having their “stripper badges.” An enhanced bust said, “Hey, I make a lot of money, so I can afford these things, and I’m damn good at what I do. I’m on a higher tier then you. Like Hammer said, ‘You cant touch this.’”
As a consistent top earner, I felt like I had made it to this category. The whale of Northeast Ohio was in love with me, and management put up with my diva-like behavior on account of him. What can I say? I was young, felt like I’d made it, and wanted my stripper badge. No sooner did the whale offer to pay off one of my credit cards than I decided to get them. I put them on my card posthaste, and he ended up paying them off. Made it, indeed.
When I woke up from surgery it felt like I had a backpack on backwards and I was in quite a bit of pain. It wasn’t anything like Dr. 90210, where they cut to a week later and the girls are all grinning and talking to their new tits like schizophrenics. Luckily, I didn’t have any drains, so I just ate a lot of Vicodin and ate copious amounts of popsicles. I peeked at my new boobs when I wasn’t supposed to, and yeah, OK, talked to them a little bit. So sue me. All in all, it was a painful experience, but at the time well worth it. After I got my implants, everyone fawned over them which boosted my confidence even more. While I had assumed that after getting my implants I would earn more, it’s not so much that my money increased, it’s that it took less effort to make it. That probably had to do with my self confidence more then anything, and the whale was happy that I was happy.
Don’t think I wasn’t grateful. I did care for my whale; he was a good guy. Right up until my last day, when I knew I needed to be done with it, I loved dancing. But when that time comes, it hits you over the head and spins you around and you ARE DONE. It isn’t like those times when you make less than you want, have PMS, and storm out of the dressing room screaming “I’m fucking done with this shit!” For me, it was like a fairy godmother cracked me over the head and snapped me out of my stripper persona (I’m not so sure she did me a favor), and in the fall of 2010 I walked out of the dressing room one last time.
A year after I quit dancing I was engrossed in webcam work. Working on cam is like having a giant strip club that’s full of guys that like a million different things, so you cater to your own niche. It’s easier in that you have such a variety of of guys from all around the world. You aren’t stuck with your crappy Tuesday afternoon lunch buffet creepers like in the clubs. It’s harder in that you constantly have to be looking for the next big site, network your face off, and promote yourself all on your own.
After leaving the club, I realized that I was over the magic of the implants I’d had for seven years. They hurt my back regularly. When you’re 24 and you get implants, no one tells you how your body will change shape slightly over the years in addition to how your natural breasts change as you gain and lose weight. When I got my implants they were a large 36C. Now they were 36Ds. They still looked nice, but I knew I didn’t need them to make a living at cam work. The bras and shirts I wanted wouldn’t fit me and I felt like it was only in stripper land that my implants looked right on me. Once I’d left the club, there was no point to having them, since I only ever wanted them for work.
After getting my consult—from the same doctor who put them in—and paying for the removal out of pocket (it’s roughly half the cost of getting them in) I was nervous but excited. I missed my itty bitties. The doctor said that since my nipple placement was good, my skin was still quite elastic, and my implants weren’t huge, I should have good results without a lift, which was a relief since that would have meant more scars, a higher cost, and more time off of work (and, I suppose, a lot more vitamin E oil and Mederma).
Post-removal I was happy and much less sore than after enhancement surgery, though unfortunately this time I did have drains, which are disgusting. You have to empty the fluid and measure it. It’s not fun. And then there’s the pulling out of the drains, which are a good 12-15 inches inside each breast. It felt a lot like pulling out a splinter, painful and odd but over quickly. Within a week, I was back to normal.
I don’t mind the slightly deflated look of my breasts. Quite honestly, they look almost 85 percent like they did before. The majority so far of my unhappiness is with the scarring underneath, but at only three weeks post-op, this is still all very new and who knows how the scars will be healed in a few months.
I was happy to notice that it has not affected my camming income. Sure, the big tit lovers mostly don’t come around anymore, save for the ones who I consider friends and regulars who love me no matter what. I’m okay with that. I’m still the alternative-pinup-style-heavily-tattooed girl, and those guys still appreciate me. I’m happy with my new/old boobs in my personal life, and that is more important than making myself happy only in my adult work life.
I am still all for girls getting implants. the only thing i would like them to consider is that you are doing this for yourself, and for your whole life, not just for your professional one. These aren’t Reebok Pump-Ups, kids (OK, I’m dating myself here, I know). You can’t just deflate them when you go home or take them out like that piercing that’s been annoying the crap out of you. Make sure those ta-tas are for you, not for everyone else, even if they are paying for them.
Paris lives in Ohio and loves ferrets, dogs, and submissive men (which might be redundant). She still goes to strip clubs and gets boobs rubbed in her face for old times sake. Her site is www.paris-lee.com and she tweets at @parisisoncam.