VIEW IN THE MIRROR

Wednesday, January 18, 2023

The day after surgery, I peeped into my soft bra to check on the bandages and to see if there were any signs of infection. All good. I had a strong desire to see what was under the bandage that covered one-third of my left boob. I was desperate to take a closer look at myself. So curious. Not yet.

My boobs have been a part of me, well, since grade 4. I remember having chats with my Mom about her very early development and I recall being on the eager lookout for things to start changing. It seemed to be that one day I had a girl's flat chest and the next, I had boobs. Now I know the development didn't happen that quickly, but I swear it felt like a mere week between my first training bra and a real cup-size bra.

My first foray into the world of lingerie happened on a Saturday morning at the age of 9. Mom and I went to the Simpson's department store downtown. I am now chuckling at the memory of my Mom speaking to the sales clerk while I tried to avoid eye contact. At the time I was so embarrassed, and now I have a blog about my boobs! lol There weren't a lot of "bra" options for young girls, just simple white cotton "tops" that were to help young developing girls like me get accustomed to wearing something that would eventually hold much more than small developing buds.

Boring white cotton mini-camisoles, nothing exciting, well until my eyes fell upon the Pucci-inspired pink-swirl training bra with white lace trim! Oooooo YES please!!! I'm sure my Mom was less excited by the non-practicality of it (especially under my school uniform white shirts) and the higher price tag too, but seriously, who could resist such a fun piece of necessity? So one white and one not. And there began the love-hate relationship with my mammary underpinnings.

Having developed large breasts early in life, I was confronted with much teasing early on. My insecurity heightened by unkind jokes and uncomfortable stares. While many of my friends were finding ways to increase the appearance of their bossoms, I was trying to find ways to squash mine... until one day, I finally made peace with my inheritance and accepted my breasts as a beautiful part of me.

And now...

Now I was going to be newly introduced to an old part of me.

Oh my sweet left boob!!

How much smaller will you be? What shape? What will you look like? Will David still want to touch you? Will I be desirable? I was scared to uncover the reality that lay beneath the bandage. The swelling had distorted its size and the bra obstructed the full view. I was finally able to take a shower and the bandages were coming off. The big reveal.

David helped me get undressed. We slowly pulled at the medical tape and removed the bandages. I stood in front of the mirror, David behind me, and together we looked at my naked breasts for the first time.

A change yes, but surprisingly not as dramatic as I had feared. "Smaller and perkier" were the words used by the surgeon as he described what the end result would be, but imagining what it would actually be was a completely different story in my head. As I looked at myself, the reflection of my breasts was not much different than the Gauguinesque-inspired rendition (minus the tropical paradise) -------->

I cupped my slightly smaller, perkier and also slightly lopsided left boob. David wrapped his arms around me, holding me. I was ok. Better than just ok. I had been preparing myself for a shock. I had expected the incision to be across the inside portion of my breast leaving behind a glaring and permanent reminder. Instead, the scar will travel along the outer rim of my areola, approximately 5 inches in total length. Dr. Escallon was able to do what he needed to do while camouflaging where he needed to cut. A gift. He took care of me, removed my cancer and still left me beautiful. I had been holding my breath. Nervous about the outcome. Tears rolled down my face.

Gratitude filled my heart.

David whispered love into my ear and all my worry was gone.