Missing the Girls

Let's see. . . . . which emotional issues should I bury under deep layers of sarcasm today?

After my breast cancer diagnosis things got to rolling really fast and there wasn't time to grieve for my sacrificed body parts. They amputated both girls! And you wouldn't believe the COST of having my TaTa's removed! Wowza!

As a breast cancer WARRIOR who underwent bilateral mastectomy, I'm sure I'm not supposed to say I miss them. I probably shouldn't be thinking it. Don't get me wrong, I'm blessed to have found this crappy cancer early and gotten rid of it. I'm glad to be alive. But if I'm honest, I'm missing a couple body parts and I'm still trying to get used to that! I'm sure my hubster misses the girls too, even though he's been fantastic. (And think for a minute how he might be unfairly criticized if he were to openly admit that) There seems to be a certain amount of guilt involved when a breast cancer patient says she misses her breasts.

This may be a sensitive subject. . . . . the size of a woman's mammary glands. Clothes are made to fit us with boobage, unless you shop in the pre-teen department because you are an A cup. Who cares? Actually, it seems, everybody! Marketing uses boobs to sell almost everything from motorcycles to viagra.

As a young girl in Jr. High, our P.E Coach had us girls chanting "We must, we must, we must increase our bust" out loud. So, she was telling us girls how important our size was while we were all still in training bras! I hated those dang bras. I wasn't proud to get one and didn't want it. There were always those who developed early and wore mascara and lip gloss before I did. Of course, I grew into a B cup and before crappy cancer took them, I was a D cup. ('Generous sized' according to my surgeon.)

Shopping for bras (have you noticed there are 4+ aisles to choose from) is not fun. So many choices! Satin, damask, cotton, padded, underwire, pink, white, tiger print, leather and lace. We want to look curvy, but be comfortable. There's no such thing with those booby straps!!!

I gave up the underwire when I got fibromyalgia because they hurt. I hated padding because mine were, for the most part, bigger than I wanted due to the weight gain from the fibro. But I still miss them. There, I said it, (or wrote it) for posterity. It's out there in cyberspace for all to read and digest. I miss the girls. I grieve for them. Losing them was a BIG deal after all.  My hugs are different. . . . . man hugs. . . . . no padding between me and whomever I'm hugging.

I'm ok with that, are you?