5 weeks into a relationship shouldn’t see tears or hear phrases like, “I thought you loved me”. Yikes. 5 weeks into a relationship shouldn’t be about discussing the first name of a child, where you want to spend your retirement years or what it would be like if his mother came to live with us. I’m not sure when the fast forward was hit, but speeding along at Mach3 is making me anxious, tense and a wee bit nauseous. I like my tall Indian, but I’m not ready to jump into the marriage/kids/mortgage ring with this guy just yet. Call me crazy, but 5 weeks in is just a little too soon. I’m still figuring him out. And wondering if I like what I’m finding! I like that he cooks, is incredibly attentive and very affectionate. I’m not liking when he drinks too much wine and talks about politics in a very loud, opinionated manner, or the tiny missing detail that he hasn’t yet been there for me in bed, and last but certainly not least, the realization that I can’t handle, with any amount of dignity, the crying (on his part) that most often accompanies discussions beginning with, “What’s up with you tonight?”

5 weeks is too much too soon for a lot of things. 5 weeks is how long it takes to get an appointment with really good hairstylist, to get lab test results proclaiming you’re actually healthy, or to finalize real estate deals.

But is 5 weeks too late to give Gold Miner Greg a call?

A month of being exclusive later – I’m having second thoughts. My tall Indian lover has quickly turned into my tall Indian boyfriend – with all the demands and expectations of a regular relationship! And I’m not so sure I’m ready. In the last four months after the breakup, the move out, the getting sick with stress, the finding a new apartment, the new tits…and then a new relationship… I’m not so sure I’m dealing with the whole thing as gracefully as I  should. Falling in love is easy, but staying in love and really committing to it – that’s the hard part as I’m sure the better half of the stats show with any modern day marriage! I’m struggling with wanting serious amounts of my own space, seeing other people and needing something a little more than just the occasional fuck. I’m not sure where a new relationship fits into all it. Perhaps nowhere. I tried to give my exclusivity rights back to him last night – but in that sexy London accent and with those chocolaty sweet brown eyes I was only able to articulate my need for space. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I’ve been fantasizing about sex with my ex – a sure sign that I’m just not ready for another go round so soon! Does this mean that I have to give up the samosas?

Fake Tits. I’ve been dreaming about getting some for a the better part of a decade; continually envious of deep cleavage and longing for some curves that fill up a bra properly! So, after a month of research and not a thought about my credit limit – I finally DID IT! And baby, are they fabulous! The actually surgery lasted about an hour and post op healing took a good two weeks but if I were to do it all again – I would have only done it sooner! I went from an A cup to a D cup and according to all the girlfriends, my sister and mother, plastic surgeon and co-workers…it seems as if I was born to the wrong size of boobs! The Ds look as if they were supposed to have been there all along! A fantastic fit! I have to admit that I love touching, squeezing, and rubbing them – they feel so nice! And damn, do they look good under a t-shirt! Having gone from almost nothing to VaVaVaVoom – feels nothing more than natural! I actually feel good being naked with a lover, whereas before – the bra would be the last thing to come off (in the dark) and the first thing to struggle back into (before the lights came back on). Although the stitches are still dissolving and I’m still wearing a 1950s version of a support bra – I know that I made the right choice for myself… and for all the future bikinis I can finally own!