There is a fine line between wanting to be well informed and simply freaking the hell out of myself. I decided it was a good idea to look at mastectomy pictures last night. Wow. There are all shapes and sizes and drains and tubes and bruises and stitches and scars and blood. You can't forget the blood. Understanding what's going to happen and having a visual to attach to it are two different things as well. I've still been mildly freaked out today. While I know it will save my life, it's not like I WANT to hack my boobs off. I don't WANT implants. I don't WANT a tummy tuck... SCREECH. Wait. Yeah, maybe I want that last one.
I won't lie... I love my rack. I've earned it. I went from a 34B pre-children to a 36DD in my current state. Yes, you read that right. I didn't stutter. I've always prided myself on the fact that they're mine and they're pretty damn good for a 41-year old woman. I gained 85 pounds between my two pregnancies and ultimately got up to a 38F - as in FABULOUS. Am I a boob woman? Yep. Guess so. I don't want to be flat-chested. I don't want a reduction. I want what I have now. See what I get for that bullshit?
I have felt fake boobs once. It was at a strip club in Vegas. (A story for another blog, perhaps...) They felt just like I expected them to; balloons filled with sand. Will mine be like that? I'm all for being firm and my nipples ceasing to make sparks on the pavement when I walk down the street but will I be like Barbie? I'm not down with that. High and tight - that's for military 'dos, not my boobs. I can deal with change - but I don't want to feel misshapen or disfigured or worst of all, unfeminine. My boobs don't define me but they're a huge part of me. Pun kinda sorta intended there. I can live without them. It's not like they're an arm or a leg or my eyeball where I'd have to adjust my way of living. They're just ornaments. Ornaments that sometimes do get unwanted ogling by people. Ew. But, I digress...
I read a book by a breast cancer survivor that talked about Amazon warriors. According to her, these women would slice off their own boobs so that they could pull the arrows back further - thus making them more efficient (and way more badass) warriors. I like that. Maybe slicing my boobs off will make me able to reach back further and really be more powerful, too? Oh, good lord. That's too deep for me. Must be the lack of sleep.
I'm going to sleep and dream about boobies. MY boobies. Peace out.
Wow you triggered a memory right after my surgery...I was feeling pretty hideous 'cause it was past the point of removing bandages and John and I were conidering the results. John has never been the "comforting type" and he agreed with me that my boob was disfigured. Of course I raised up about 50 notches on the freak scale. It was okay for me to say it but when he said it.....I was horrified. Then he took me by my shoulders, sat me down and said "You were Cindy with the perfect breasts before and you are Cindy now. I don't care how we got here, you are here with me and I don't know what I would do without you."
ReplyDeleteWill I ever go to a nudist colony now? Don't think so but mostly because I didn't want to before. LOL
Love ya!