Living as we do in an age where breast enlargements are more common than visits to the dentist, it seems almost violently ungrateful that I, having been endowed with a large bosom, would want to have it reduced.
While every other woman is in pursuit of larger, more prominent and certainly more noticeable breasts, I'm in the process of investigating the best way to 'dispose' of mine.
It may sound harsh, but my breasts and I have a bit of a history.
Ulrika has felt increasingly awkward about her bust
You may be surprised to learn that I was, in fact, a late developer in every aspect of puberty. In my early teens, my breasts were already a big disappointment.
While my school friends were all donning bras and showing signs that womanhood was, indeed, just around the corner, my chest remained as flat as a pancake.
My bust hadn't even graduated to a couple of paracetamols on an ironing board, and the brassiere my parents bought me for my 13th birthday sat pretty redundant on my barren chestplate for longer than I care to remember.
As with most awkward physical developments, at secondary school my lack of breasts made me the target of a bullying campaign headed by a rather short boy called Martin-something.
No doubt these were early signs of short-man-syndrome, as he took out his frustration on me by labelling me 'frigid'. This later became 'frigid tart' which, I was wise enough to spot, was a contradiction in terms, and to that end he went down in my estimation as a bully.
It is little wonder, then, that paranoia about my body, nay, my breasts, set in early on. This was compounded by the fact that Tracy Salter grew a fine pair and Sally Smith appeared to have got my share.
It was blindingly disappointing and I prayed nightly that I might be granted just a cupful.
Alas, eventually my prayers were answered. Out of nowhere, it seemed, in 1981 I became a C-cup, which was more than I could have hoped for.
But as if to confirm that one is never happy with one's lot, I grew increasingly displeased with my nipples which weren't as pert as Marie Berntson's.
But beggars can't be choosers, I resolved, so I thanked my lucky stars and proceeded with unease to womanhood.
It is undeniable that breasts are one of the main components of femininity. They are highly visible, even if covered up, and their shape and size are signals to any man that the person he is looking at is undoubtedly a woman.
Even women with small breasts now have the help of underwire, push-up bras which enable them to display their womanliness to all around.
Booming bust: During her last pregnancy Ulrika had to order an I-cup
For me, however, as my C-cup became a D-cup by the age of 21, I gradually became more and more awkward about my bust.
I felt it was largely in the way; I found wearing a bra totally out of keeping with my Swedish free-spirit; I felt trapped and uncomfortable in these awkward contraptions and I never once looked upon my breasts as something feminine or, God forbid, sexual.
I cannot give you a reason for that. It could be that in this country being blonde and well-endowed is a lethal combination.
Maybe I struggled with my sexuality full-stop. After all, it took me until I was 26 before I felt at ease with myself - I had an affair.
I had always felt awkward and embarrassed in the company of boys when I was younger and as I grew older I was simply lacking in confidence. Perhaps I was hiding behind my 'mammaries' in some Freudian slip of anonymity - who knows, I've never really analysed it.
Men, I'm led to believe, fall into two categories: breast men or bum men. To that end, you're on to a winner with a large bust because everyone, after all, has a behind.
However, women with oversized breasts, are often subjected to other people judging their character by their physiognomy.
If the first thing you see is a marvellous cleavage and a massive bust, it's hard to see anything else.
I think many women with huge breasts feel burdened by them, not only as a source of unwanted attention, but often a burden of weight on their backs and shoulders. Which, in my mind, makes breast augmentations all the more puzzling.
During all four of my pregnancies my bust increased with lightning speed and to ridiculous proportions.
In my first pregnancy in 1994 when I was 27, I went from a D up to an FF-cup. When I moaned about this to my dear friend Vic Reeves, his eyes lit up and he asked whether the double F stood for ' F***** g Fantastic'.
I set a record this time when I was pregnant, though - I eclipsed all physical possibilities, I thought, when I had to order an I-cup over the internet. Marks & Spencer goes up to a J-cup but its best seller is a 36C.
I was truly repulsed by my breasts and I think my husband, Brian Monet, was stunned into a nine-month silence. I likened myself to a fat, ageing porn star.
Family first: Ulrika, photographed by husband Brian Monet after she came back from hospital in June with baby Malcolm, his brother Cameron and sisters Bo and Martha
It goes without saying that if you're not proud of your breasts you're not likely to want anyone near them.
Standing in the shower, I could not see the rest of my body when looking down. And don't even get me started on the backache and the painful red grooves the bra straps left on my shoulders.
Which brings me to the post-pregnancy bust. If anything could be less desirable than bloated, humongous 'mummy bags', it's a deflated pair.
You see, I know what's coming over the next few months. Not unlike a tyre with a slow puncture, they will gradually diminish and I will, before you can say the word 'mammoplasty', be left with what can be described only as two ping-pong balls in bin liners.
If I felt embarrassed when I was a teenager, then my post-breastfeeding bust has the potential to leave me suicidal.
I'm not joking. It sounds extreme but I recall sobbing in the changing room in Harvey Nichols' swimwear department three years ago after Martha was born.
I simply could not find a bikini to accommodate the small, narrow back I have and my breasts which were largely a mass of skin with no substance. It really was quite heartbreaking.
I remember calling my friend from the changing room and vowing that I would have surgery. I'm not sure why I did not.
I am well aware that I now hide behind the word 'corrective' when I talk about the breast reduction and lift I want to have done, when really, in truth, it is cosmetic surgery.
But I feel I'm correcting a mistake made by Mother Nature when she over-inflated me and then robbed me when my job as nurturer was done.
Breastfeeding, it has to be said, was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life and I don't regret it for one nanosecond. Not only was it the best thing for my babies but it will hopefully also reduce my chances of breast cancer.
However, I have lost count of the number of times I've looked on in amazement and bemusement as celebrities (and non-celebs) have gone under the knife in order to achieve outsized, manufactured boobs.
I'm not sure if they know that they will become the subject of attention, and for perhaps all the wrong reasons. Maybe that's what they want. Have they taken into account the potential neck, shoulder and back pain? Perhaps it's a price they're willing to pay.
Ulrika with her mother, Gun, and stepfather Michael Brodie in 1984
Over the years of talking to men I've learned that they are not keen on boob jobs. They're fine to look at, seems to be the general consensus, but not to touch.
One young girl I spoke to said that she wanted a larger bust to 'make her feel more womanly', which at only 23 I thought was a really sad remark.
There's more to being a woman than just breasts.
And cosmetic surgery companies insist on playing on what they call 'self-esteem', which does not sit easy with me. Not even I am in search of better self-esteem. I just want a better bust. Self-esteem comes from within, not from implants.
So as I embark on surgery - and the reverse procedure of many women's dreams - I wonder if I couldn't also be environmentally friendly and recycle my old assets into someone's new pride and joy. But I guess that's pushing it.
Oh, and by the way, I have no intention of this being the start of a whole cosmetic surgery quest.
My husband has shown no objections to my desire for surgery. Thankfully, I think he knows how much it means to me just as much as he knows my mind's made up.
If, however, he was absolutely dead against it, I do believe I might take that into consideration - but it certainly wouldn't stop me.
I'm anxious and nervous about the risks of elective surgery and even about the outcome. I am 41 and my only experience of general anaesthetic has been when I had my varicose veins removed.
I am well aware that I might lose sensation in my nipples - or at worst one of them might not take to its new position and 'die'. But as someone who has continually hidden her breasts - even going to such lengths as wearing a bra in bed with my lovers - I'm reasonably unconcerned about scarring. I have accepted it as an inevitability.
Naturally, I would be delighted if it can be avoided, and to that end an experienced surgeon will be called for, wherever he may be. And yes, I am hoping it is a 'he', perhaps because he will create a pair he would personally like.
Katie Price, aka Jordan, went all the way to LA for her most recent reduction. If needs must, then so will I. And I really can't wait.
But wait I must. I have to wait for my body to get back to its normal size 12, weighing just under 9 stone, after the birth of Malcolm three months ago.
In the meantime, I will dream of being a B or C-cup and burning my old bras; I will dream of bra-less days spent running up and down the garden with the children; I will dream of lying naked next to my husband and not worrying about how I look, and I will dream of a bust which is in proportion to the rest of my body.
How a surgeon will create perfect breasts
Last year, 3,402 women in the UK had breast reductions, according to the British Association of Aesthetic Plastic Surgeons (BAAPS). By contrast 6,479 had breast enlargements.
But what exactly can Ulrika expect to go through to achieve her ideal breast size? RAJIV GROVER, consultant plastic surgeon and secretary of BAAPS, explains.
'The key point of the surgery begins on the morning of the operation - with the marking. On the operating table the breasts will have moved, so the marks will show where the new nipple is to be positioned - approximately halfway between the shoulder and the elbow.
'After being anaesthetised, an incision is made around the nipple. Some skin and breast tissue is removed from the lower half of the breast in accordance with the marks made earlier.
'If the operation is mainly a reduction then skin and a substantial amount of breast tissue is taken. If it is an uplift, a lot of skin and minimal breast tissue is taken.
'The nipple needs to be moved to a higher position and this is done by cutting into the breast tissue but ensuring the nipple remains attached so there is enough blood supply to keep it nourished.
'This piece of tissue and nipple, called the pedicle, is then folded upwards so the nipple is moved up.
'At the same time this chunk of breast tissue gives a greater projection higher up so that the breast will have a nice shape.
'Where the skin has been cut below the breast, the skin edges are brought together to form a scar which will go circumferentially around the nipple in its new position.
'You then have a scar that extends vertically downwards and one in the crease under the breast.'
How long does it take?
The operation takes about two-and a-half hours.
What's the recovery time?
One night in hospital after surgery is followed by ten days of rest at home. For the first four weeks, the patient must wear a sports bra day and night until the breasts have healed. She will be able to drive after ten days, have stitches out in two weeks, be back at work in two weeks and back to sport in four.
How much will it cost?
Between £5,000 and £6,000.
How long will it last?
For the majority of patients this is a lifelong result.
