My girlness

Okay, I'm prepared to talk a little more emotionally about things. First of all, I can't tell you what a difference it makes just to have talked about some directions, and to have laid out a plan. Those who know me know how much a planner I am, so even though I was joking about the flow chart thing yesterday, I really do feel calmer when I picture one. I can focus on the next piece of the path, and know that worrying about the things that happen after that step will not help at this point. (Well, worrying will never help it, I guess.)

That said, I do want to try to get used to the idea that I might lose my breast in the immediate future, and I probably will lose it at some point. I can't help but think about my first round with cancer, when I lost my hair. I was devastated when that happened, most of all because it made me look less like a 16-year-old girl and more like an androgynous cancer patient. Disagree all you want, those who knew me then, but I can cite two occasions when I was mistaken for a boy. Those instances were funny to me then, and they are funny to me now, but the thought was not funny to me as I watched my hair fall like rain from my head. I truly felt like I was losing what made me look like a girl.

Well. Now I'm looking at losing a breast. Upping the ante. And my breast won't grow back looking cuter than ever, like my hair did - although I hear they do amazing things with reconstruction now, so maybe it will be better than ever! What nags at me a bit is this: I'm in that incredibly girly stage right after being proposed to, when I start to dream about the dress, the venue, the flowers... for my wedding. But at least the dress part needs to wait, because my body may be undergoing some pretty serious changes. Can't be trying on a dress with one boob, although my friend just pointed out, we could always shove some socks in there. (Love you, Noey.) I know I wouldn't ever actually have just one boob, because of reconstruction options. But... I dunno, I'm just feeling very protective of that area right now. I don't want anything exposing it or touching it or anything. It's already all scarred and will only get worse. It's just my emotion speaking.

When I lost my hair, I cried in the living room in front of my parents. My brother came in, and asked what was wrong. "I don't want to be bald!" I wailed. "I just want to look like a girl! I don't want to be a cancer patient!" Luke thought for a moment, then said, "There's something cool about a bald chick... It's bold." And he was right! And I believe there is something cool and bold about a one-boobed chick, too. There has been in every breast cancer survivor I've talked to, and I trust that this boldness is in me, too, regardless of when it is that I become a one-boobed chick. Thank you to all of you for reminding me that this boldness is in me.