It’s clear now that I made the right decision to go with immediate reconstruction. (BTW, this WHOLE post will be about boobs, so look away if you hate boobs) I can still wear most of my shirts and see some shape and know that others see that too, even if my friends know how I got it. Is that the way it should be? Should we give so much importantce to breast size? Future generations will probably find us quite ridiculous, but our urge to define and judge others is bred deep within and goes far back into our past. It’s a hard habit to break. And I guess I just wasn't ready to be declassified.
Would it have been easier to wrap up the mastectomy and be done with it? Short term, oh yes. Those first few weeks were rough. It felt SO wrong to have a foreign object stuffed under my muscle. And yet the worst pain already seems distant. Yeah, I still have discomfort and things I can't accomplish. Days I push too hard because I forget there’s a healing process still going on in there. But for the most part, this new set-up rocks. These abbreviated breasts feel pretty real. Okay, better than real—firm and without lumps.
Had another follow-up with my plastic surgeon yesterday and asked why my left side was smaller. After blanching a little at the slight to his surgical prowess, he said the mastectomy surgeon took more from the tumor side to be safe. Also, my chest overall has shrunk a bit since surgery because the swelling has reduced. My left side now has this indentation between my sternum and the implant. There’s just no fat there. And because they took so much, it’s different from the right (well, to someone who keeps looking at her chest in the mirror every two seconds). It really shouldn't bother me, because I was lopsided before surgery. Why do I need perfect symmetry?
Anyway, I showed him how I can now move my breasts independently by tensing my pecs like a sailor (all I need is a hula girl tattoo, low cut top, a cup for donations and Carbon has another wage earner). He seemed nonplussed by this skill. Would that exercise help, I asked. Not really, no. Anyway, he did give me some options.
First, more massage. Sigh. Oh, so now I need to massage them up and over and NOT down. Got it. Then he said he could put a larger implant in. Um, NO! Then—THEN—he said he could lipo some fat from OTHER AREAS and lay it in over the indentation. It was all I could do not to hop in his lap right then and there and lay a gentle kiss on his forehead.
I do recognize this entire ordeal has failed to stifle my vanity. But how convenient is it that I have just such a fat donation site located in my upper thighs?