She thought looking like her heroine would change her life for the better. But was Sheyla’s latest request too drastic?
Picking up an orange and a lemon from the fruit bowl, I shoved them into my backpack along with the others.
Dashing to the bathroom, I took them all out, but instead of peeling them to eat, I started shoving them one by one inside my bra, under my shirt.
Turning to the side, I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
OK, this will have to do, I sighed.
‘Look who grew boobs,’ sniggered a girl in my class when I arrived at school. ‘You can try all you like, but you’ll always have a man-body.’
‘Man-body, man-body,’ everyone else started chanting.
It wasn’t fair.
Why couldn’t my boobs grow as big as all the other girls in my year?
I was 16 years old and still a B-cup.
When I returned home that day, I was flicking through a magazine and stared in awe at a photograph of country singer Dolly Parton.
Wow! I gasped.
Dolly’s boobs were so big and womanly.
One day, you’ll look like her, I promised myself.
From that day on, I was determined to change my body.
When I was 19, I gave birth to my son. Although I felt so blessed, my confidence hit an all-time low.
My son’s father and I broke up, but a couple of years later, I met someone else.
With his support, I booked in to have a boob job.
When the day of my operation arrived, I practically skipped into the operating theatre.
‘When I wake up, I’m going to look like Dolly Parton,’ I smiled.
At first, I was delighted with my new C-cup breasts.
But as the weeks passed and my boobs’ post-op swelling went down, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
‘They’re still too small,’ I frowned to my boyfriend.
Five months later, I was back in the operating theatre.
This time, I left the hospital with D-cup breasts — but they still weren’t big enough.
‘I think they look great,’ said my boyfriend.
‘No, they definitely need to be bigger,’ I replied.
So, within a few months, I had them enlarged to a double D, and then an F-cup.
'You'll always have a man-body'
I couldn’t deny they were big, but still, every time I looked in the mirror, I saw my school bullies looking at me with disgust, and shouting ‘man-body’.
I was determined that no one would ever say that about me again.
But the more operations I had, the bigger my boobs got and doctors became reluctant to operate on me.
I felt so down about myself, especially as I had tried to make it as a model, but was told I wasn’t skinny enough.
Then, I found a clinic in China who would operate on me.
I booked for a rib removal so I could have a waist tuck, liposuction on my legs and of course, another boob job.
But when I woke up, I felt as if I’d been hit by a bus.
I was kept in for a few days, but while at a hotel recovering, I took a turn for the worse.
Suddenly, everything went black.
The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a hospital bed.
It turned out that the doctor who did my surgery had performed liposuction everywhere — even on my arms.
I had lost so much blood that I needed a blood transfusion.
I almost died, I thought as I lay in the hospital bed hooked up to wires.
But as I closed my eyes, I still dreamt of having bigger boobs.
I couldn’t help it. By now, I was totally addicted.
So, after flying back home, I started to plan yet another breast operation.
I hit the jackpot when I finally found a doctor who not only agreed to work on me, but also told me of a new way I could achieve my massive knockers.
He said I could have an empty breast implant that he would fill with saline until it reached the breast size I desired.
‘This sounds perfect,’ I beamed.
When I walked out of his practice with FFF boobs, I felt really powerful.
I felt as if me and my humongous hooters could rule the world.
My life changed instantly — I got married and took up a career in modelling.
As I posed in front of the camera, I felt so confident.
No one’s words can ever hurt me again, I thought.
Then I had an idea.
‘I want to be in the Guinness World Records for having the world’s biggest boobs,’ I said to my husband.
Over the next few years, my boobs ballooned to a MMM-cup and I was about to achieve my dream and appear in the Guinness World Records.
However, everything changed when I found out I was pregnant.
I had undergone a breast operation a few weeks earlier, and little did I know, a baby was growing inside me.
What will this mean for my career, I fretted.
I was about to achieve my dream of having the world’s biggest boobs — this was going to change everything.
‘You have a decision to make,’ said my doctor.
‘Keep the baby or reduce your implants.’
My boobs were so big that there was no space in my belly for the baby to grow.
Of course, I decided to keep the baby, but reducing my breasts to a FFF was hard to swallow.
When my beautiful daughter was born, I was so overcome with love that my bust qualms took a back seat.
Despite having had my breasts reduced in size, each one was still bigger than my daughter’s head.
I would hold her to me, and she was eclipsed by my mammoth mammaries.
But as time went on, all I could think about was making them bigger again.
I found a doctor who agreed to put two implants in each breast. But, after undergoing the procedure, I woke up feeling feverish and when my boobs turned from purple to red, I knew they had become infected.
I rushed to the hospital where I begged the doctor not to remove the implants.
Instead, he drilled holes in my nipples so the infection could drain, but then I developed a flesh-eating bacteria.
My beloved boobs were being eaten away!
I ended up with a large hole in my nipple the size of an orange. I had to inject myself with antibiotics every day for the following year.
I can’t go on like this, I said to myself one day, admitting defeat.
Deep down, I knew the implants had to go.
When the dreaded day came to remove them, all I did was cry.
I had been through so much, including two near-death experiences, to have my dream boobs — and now, they were about to be ripped away from me.
When they had been removed, my chest felt like an ironing board.
All I could hear was ‘man-body, man-body’ screaming in my ear.
Soon, I became so depressed that I attempted to take my own life, twice.
I underwent therapy and although it made me feel a bit better, I knew I would never be truly happy unless I had the world’s biggest breasts.
And so, back to surgery I went.
My boobs are now back up to a FFF-cup.
However, I don’t plan on stopping there.
My goal now is to get my boobs to a OOO-cup with the saline expansions.
It will be my 39th breast operation.
I have nearly died four times in total, however, I would rather die happy with my huge breasts than be sad without them.
Doctors have continuously begged me to stop, and although I hope that one day I will, I know that won’t be until I am in the Guinness World Records for having the biggest boobs in the world.
The breast is yet to come!
Sheyla Hershey, 42