Moobs be Gone!

Moobs be Gone!
Moobs be Gone!

In part one of this story, I disclosed a life-long issue with what is politely referred to as gynecomastia. This, you may recall, is the clinical term for a man developing breasts – the soft bouncy kind, not the shiny, hard pectorals that seem to magically appear on every pumped-up 25 year-old.

OK maybe that’s a bit of an overstatement, since gynecomastia can affect a man at any age no matter how much iron you press. Mine surfaced as a ‘tween, disappeared through adolescence into adulthood, only to resurface much to my dismay as I slid into my 50s.

In spite of a desperate and seemingly nonstop regimen involving excruciatingly challenging exercises and a very strict diet, my moobs didn’t budge. This second installment of the story centers on my decision to pursue a permanent surgical solution to my little problem.

Southern California is the place I call home. It is awash in handsome faces and beautiful bodies – and I know just the folks who make it happen. Aesthetic surgery isn’t frowned upon in the southern half of the Golden State. In fact, for many, lifting, tightening and general “freshening up” are a normal part of the aging process from Los Angeles to San Diego.

In the first part of the story, I described my visit with Laguna Beach-based Dan Mills, MD. In an effort to be a responsible adult who does his homework, I decided to see another plastic surgeon friend: Renato Saltz, MD of Park City, Utah.

Utah? Why go to Utah when some of the best aesthetic surgeons in the world are right in my own backyard? Actually, mammaries weren’t my only reason for my visiting Renato. He also runs something called the Image Reborn Foundation, serving the emotional needs of breast cancer patients and survivors and I wanted to go to their big fundraiser. But I figured asking him to have a look at the rack wouldn’t hurt either. So I booked an appointment and once again found myself sitting in front of a plastic surgeon wishing I was wearing a t-shirt… a hoodie… something – anything to hide the moobs that had become the bane of my existence.

“Rick -” Dr. Saltz said, “you’ve lost a lot of weight. You look terrific!” I manfully folded my arms across my chest and thanked him for his kind comment. “Look, you have a little bit of extra fat there, that’s all. Since you haven’t had this problem in all the time I’ve known you, I’m going to guess this is just stubborn fat and does not involve breast tissue. I’m going to suggest CoolSculpting®. It’s non-invasive, there’s no downtime and honestly, it’s pretty much been designed for cases like yours.”

Wow! Non-invasive? No downtime? Really?!! Even the name, CoolSculpting®, sounded great - more like some hip art installation than a candidate for the ‘tweens underwear section at Bloomingdales. When can you start?

“I’m sorry my friend but you should have this done at home. It takes several treatments and you don’t want to come all the way to Utah for that.”

OK. Bloodied but unbowed, I had found my way. So it’s back to the Golden State and finally, an end to the jiggle.

My visit with Dr. Grant Stevens – and his Marina ManLand.