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I needed to take some time to think, so I went to visit my aunt in California.

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Sitting in her backyard next to her tomato plants and talking to her made me realize that I had options. My life could look different.

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When I came home, I broke up with my partner. I still hated my job but I felt like I had to keep it to preserve some semblance of stability in my life — plus, I still had to support myself. Like, my loans will never be repaid, ever. When I had a full-time job, I was on an income-based repayment plan. The whole system feels like a scam sometimes. I had zero plan for making money after I quit my job, so I had to get scrappy.

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I started TaskRabbiting, which is pretty easy, as it turns out. You just sign up on the website and then people pay you to do things like go to the Garment District to buy an incredibly specific type of string and then tie tags onto things. I worked at a fashion start-up to put together packages that they sent to Instagram bloggers so those bloggers would post about them. One is a photographer who needed help organizing her archive in her studio. Meanwhile, not having that job or that relationship suddenly created all this space in my brain where I could think more about art and dance again.

Having more flexibility made a big difference in what I was producing. In the midst of that, I was offered a position to dance for a pretty high-profile choreographer. Now, the things I do for money are very clear. I appreciate the clarity of capitalism now in a way I never did when I had a salary.

I can take care of myself. I can do this. If I need money, I can just go make it. I work fewer hours than I did as a salaried employee, but if I do the math, my hourly rate is technically higher. Instead, the hard work is on my artistic projects. I am starting to get interested in being stimulated in more useful ways.

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More years went by, and I started to care more about fashion. However, with the rise of fast fashion, now I could afford to look classy and chic, but I would always have to wear a size up to fit my chest. I became extremely frustrated with that because when the clothes would fit my chest, they would be too loose in my waist.

I never intended to become that size.

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Meanwhile, I received a Facebook message from a girl named Angela. She suggested that I do a story for my magazine about the negative health effects of breast implants. The conversation had begun. I began to think about my own health and realized all the health problems that I had accumulated after I got my breast implants done. The worst one was my vocal cords. They grew so big the worst my UCLA doctor had ever seen that I had to have my vocal cords immediately paralyzed for a full 6 weeks. Forget about dialing if something happened or being able to scream for help.

Another bad health problem was my allergies. I started to become allergic to cats, dogs, avocados, bananas and of course, pollen. The other symptoms that really bothered me were my chronic sore throat and the fact that my left arm would often go numb.

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And I had a few other symptoms…. I guess what no surgeon tells you during your consultation is that when you insert two heavy bags into your chest, they will cut the blood and oxygen flow in your chest and neck and can even do the same to your head and arms. I was always a healthy person, so I knew all these issues had to be linked to something. One day, I was at a store where I saw two beautiful jackets on sale. I bought both jackets and hung them in my closet for motivation. Six months later, I went in for the breast explant removal surgery.

At first, the surgeon tried to talk me out of it because she said my breasts would look like two pancakes. All I did was visualize looking like I used to… young, healthy and free, running around, jumping up, and not feeling the weight of the bags in my chest. As I was going under, I had a smile on my face, and I visualized waking up looking beautiful. I could smell again. I felt I was reborn, and I felt young again. My allergies were immediately gone. It was also due to the steroids they put into the anesthesia, but even after they wore off, the allergies never really came back. According to her, my left implant was stuck to my ribcage, which explained my arm going numb all the time.

On the right side, the scar tissue looked like scrambled eggs, and it spanned all the way to my shoulder because apparently, the surgeon who put the implants in 11 years ago accidentally penetrated my arm with that stick. You never know what the inside of your body really looks like unless you open it. After a couple of weeks, I noticed my right nipple was a bit inverted.

It was due to the scar tissue inside the breast holding it attached to another part of the breast tissue. When I leaned forward, I could see the difference between the shape and size of the two breasts.

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But I was still happy with the surgery because of the smaller size of my breasts. The thing that bothered me was that I had a bit of pain inside my breasts, especially during my PMS. She wanted me to try him to help me with mine. I was willing to pay his hourly rate because I knew I would see if he was credible or not after one try.

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He worked on my breasts for an hour and a half. He would be pushing really hard to break up the scar tissue. The whole time I was in pain, a lot of pain. I was sweating. This could be dangerous, as he could pinch your nerves, so you must make sure you get the right person to do it. But for some reason, I trusted him, and what he was doing made sense to me. I almost cried. My breasts were filled with fluids again.

They perked up and got more even. I almost looked like I never had the breast implants in. I was so happy. He came back for two more sessions, and I was OK to go through all that pain again because I knew it was worth it. I get to wear nice clothes, I feel more athletic, and I feel much younger. At 43, I think I look much better than I did at 23 or