A Boob By Any Other Name

Hey, it's just a couple of boobs.  We refer to them as mammaries, breasts, TaTa's, the girls, boobs, boobies, breasts, baby pacifiers, baby bottles, hooters, knockers, chest bumps, crumb catchers, pillows, jugs, melons, puppies, air bags, hooters, tittie's, muchacas . . . . . . and a few not so nice words that some man probably came up with. Who knew they had so many names?

                 Here is a blue footed boobie!

They are gone. But I feel them. . . . . It's what is called 'phantom' pain. Of course I hurt from the top of my head to my bellybutton. It's a good thing God made women so strong! I swear they must've slapped me around while I was asleep because I feel beat up.

This bruise travels under my arms. I'm sure there's more under all this wrapping and gauze.  I'll know more when I try to shower today. Of course, that's open to interpretation because I can't get my drain holes or incisions wet, so it'll be more of a sponge shower.

I donated the 'old girls' to science. . . . . . even tho I did consider (for about 1 minute) bringing them home in a jar.  I figured we might as well get some useful research from them. Not that I believe they'll find a cure using my TaTa's but hey, they stood a better chance of living beyond their 59 years in a research lab than in a jar or the trash!

So carry on old girls! Make yourself useful as you travel beyond my chest wall. I'm not mourning your loss yet.