By David Dennis

I have a love/hate relationship with breasts. Love because, well, breasts. Hate because I used to have a pair. After putting on some weight a while back, my son, Jacob, 13 at the time, informed me that I was able get to second base with myself. I began counting calories a few hours later. But not long after shedding my breasts, I was rewarded with a well-formed replacement…a supple, silicone beauty called the Natrelle® 410.

How I came to possess a state of the art breast with just the right firmness and cushion is one of countless fortuitous moments in my life that evolved from disaster and disappointment. Dumping a girl in college opened my eyes to how good I had it, and Linda is now my wife of 20 years. A transfer from California to dreary Seattle ultimately led to a two year job stint in Madrid. Stuck inside and pummeled by a cleanup set deposited me in just the right spot to save a child floundering at Capitola Beach.

And so it was on crisp day in February, surfing with my daughter, Amaya, at Getchell’s on the Westside of Santa Cruz while my wife and our Australian Shepherd looked on, that I found myself bleeding from the eyelid, stumbling onto the beach and somehow scaling up a cliff while my wife waited to rush me to urgent care. My concussion marred my memory of that day, but I recall snapshots. Yelling “Adrienne” as my eye closed like Rocky Balboa, taking selfies to document my pounding and freaking out kids in the waiting room with my battered face…although that usually happens even without injury.

I love to surf but am far from skilled. I started surfing late in life and have been trying for years to combat conventional wisdom that surfers who learn in adulthood are bound for a life of longboarding. For me, a smooth short board ride is usually followed by an epic flounder. And it was no different on the day that led to my Natrelle® 410. Riding my 6-2 beater on a thigh high mush burger, I somehow toppled face first onto my board. The board was fine, but the blood was instant, and the kelp beds kept the Great Whites at bay allowing me to make it to the sand without being chomped.

A few hours later, x-rays revealed a fractured eye socket and a long ago healed nose break that had never been diagnosed. If you know me, you have likely been distracted by my askew beak. I have no idea when I might have broken it, but I am pleased by how it juts out at just the right angle to double as a sundial at our local latitude. I was sent home from urgent care with a mandate to rest and a strong recommendation not to blow my nose. Apparently, blowing one’s nose with a fractured eye socket can cause the cheek to inflate like a puffer fish. That sounded pretty cool to me, but my wife, already married to a guy with a twisted nose, enforced the doctor’s suggestion that I visit a plastic surgeon in case my eye socket needed repair.

A day or two later, still dazed, I found myself with Linda at a local plastic surgeon’s office. Never capable of sitting idle, I reached for one of the stress balls thoughtful placed on the counter of the examination room. I kneaded it gently, squeezed it firmly and stroked it lovingly. “You know that’s a fake breast,” said Linda. But by then I was entranced, barely noticing her shaking head and rolling eyes. I simply had to have one of my own.

I have since learned that Allergan, Inc. has created a breakthrough in augmented mammary glands. Their masterful design includes a textured surface that grips the tissue ever so gently to keep it in place under the skin, and their silicone gel is a polymer of perfection. Both leak-proof and hypnotic to the touch. It had me under its spell that day. When the young and bubbly nurse came take my vitals, I tried to play it cool. But like a child staring at bubble gum in the checkout aisle, I just blurted it out. “I must have one of these!” Linda put her face in her hands. Being a Special Education teacher, she is generally numb to outbursts and eccentricities. But clearly I had crossed a line.

The nurse ignored me at first, but I persisted. “This breast feels amazing. May I please have it?” I paused for effect. “Pah-lease?” The nurse stared at my pleading face, my bruised and swollen eye, my warped nose. She sighed and, I believe, took pity on me. “I’ll see what I can do. I think we have an extra sample in the storage room. Just don’t tell the doctor.” I smiled as best I could with my deformed mug. My eye has long since healed with no plastic surgery required. I can blow my bent snout mightily with no risk of puffer fish. And, once again, I can get to second base with myself. My very own Natrelle® 410 C-cup is always in my work bag. If you ever want to get to second base with me, I’ll happily let you have a squeeze.

David Dennis is a mediocre surfer, a photographer, a product manager, an environmentalist, a world traveler and the co-owner of Ventana Surfboards & Supplies.