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The Adventure of The Experience

The Adventure of The Experience

I woke up this morning on my back in a prone position with each of my hands cupping each of my new breasts. Isn’t that hilarious?

After I came to from that state of sleep where you are not fully awake, I, of course removed my hands, but took a gander down at these oddities staring back at me. They pointed straight up, solid as two rocks, with zero movement and I realized how much I am enjoying this new adventure in and on my body.

Flexibility in your breasts, natural movement, jiggling, are all things that cease and desist when you get reconstruction in stages starting with tissue expanders like I have. The form of my breasts has to be expanded over time and though at first this was frightening to me, these two rock hard additions to my front upper body have grown on me, literally. Literally because they are expanding and growing each time Dr. Hottie adds the fluid at my regular appointments. I can see why plastic surgery can be kind of addictive because at my first consultation I specifically told him that I wanted to stay my own size. What I didn’t realize is that my own size was based on a middle age upper body (aka sagging, drooping, not perky and upright) When these babies stood upright, it was like I had a whole new look, it almost looks like I am taller and now I feel like I want to play bigger boob dress up. What the hell, I just survived breast cancer twice, found out I have a life threatening genetic mutation that has swept through my closest male family members, I deserve to play dress up, right?

Today is my doctor appointment and I am actually looking forward to another fill. I found myself disappointed at my last appointment when Dr. M. didn’t do a fill (probably because I was over fifteen minutes late, Rhode Island on a map seriously looks like you can get anywhere in ten minutes, but an hour later I arrived, blasted traffic and all of those bridges)

For some reason, this seven weeks post surgery experience has been an experience of a lifetime. I get to look at it this way because my cancer was found early twice so I am one of the lucky ones because I did not have to face the notion of early death, but what does this mean anyway? The fact is no one gets out alive and the older we get, the more we get closer to this reality. I love the fact that large big “problems” are totally insignificant now. My beautiful man refers to this as “the nonsense,” the shit that deserves no attention or our precious energy. You know the things that we freak out about that turn into a gigantic snowball at the time, but then a month later we can barely remember what all the fuss was about. I can’t believe how much shit I have let go of that used to stop me in my tracks and immobilize me in OCD behavior. For many of us on this planet, we are lucky if we get eighty or ninety years of life. The adventure of my remaining time is about joy, pep in my step, smiling for no reason, staying happy in the present moment when my mind starts to think ahead too much with silly planning or worry about the future. I have no control of the “it,” the only control I have is right now. What gives me juice? What makes me incredibly joyous? The answers to these questions are the answers to these questions. The literal shedding of a body part has changed me. The freedom, the release of weight and permission to live is the glorious light of this wild adventure that has forced me to question everything I allow in my radar. Holy didn’t see this coming, but sure glad it did.

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