Earlier this week, I got out of the shower and was drying myself off and caught my reflection in the mirror. And a thought popped into my head that utterly surprised me: "my beautiful breasts." I stopped what I was doing, and considered what I had just thought. It was something I had never even begun to think before. But encouraged by my subconscious, I took a close look, and I decided that... I agree.
My new breasts really are lovely, even with a giant red scar across the front of each. They aren't real boobs, no, and nothing manmade ever will be. My real boobs were nice, too, for a lot of reasons, but then again, they tried to kill me. But these... as I took a closer look, I started noticing again all the subtle improvements over the old implants. They are things that wouldn't make sense to you unless you, like I, had studied each so carefully, and as I'm considering how I would word the differences, nothing sounds quite right, so I will spare you the details. The old implants, well, they did the job. They filled out my clothes. They took away what would have been a lack and replaced it with a roughly boob-shaped, skin-covered mass. They were nice, and even, and steady. But the new ones... they are kind. They are gentle. They are what you would want in a friend. They are soft, to touch, to feel and to see. They more than do the job - they do it with grace.
Even the scars as they currently exist are a thing of beauty. They remind me of myself (if I may say so without sounding conceited) - a beautiful thing, that has seen some life, and has lived to tell the tale. They bear it well, and aren't ashamed that the scars can be seen. The scars, indeed, become a part of the beauty.
I've been thinking about the next step - my long-awaited tattoo. My sister-in-law is a talented artist, and I have asked her to design the tattoo for me. It has been hard to tell her what I want, because I go back and forth between wanting to do something dramatic, and not wanting to mess up the art that Dr. Langstein has already achieved. I feel the latter even more strongly now. These breasts are not something I don't care about. I feel a strange and unexpected emotional connection to them. Dr. Langstein has said that he sees his purpose as erasing the memory of cancer from the lives of those whom it has threatened, so they can look in the mirror and not be reminded of all that has been lost, and can instead look to the future. It is a lovely purpose, and one that I see even as a sort of ministry in itself. But now, at the end of treatments, looking to the capstone of this experience (my tattoo), I'm not sure to what extent I want to forget, and to what extent I want to embrace as I walk forward.
To that end, I want my tattoo to be something that is as gentle and sweet and kind as the breast it adorns. Something to celebrate, not cover it. Something subtle and beautiful and full of life. (I am open to suggestions!)
But for now, let me just say that I am very content with my new body. Even though I'm not fully healed, and won't be for several more weeks, I can tell that the new girls and I will be very good friends indeed.
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