My implant surgery was 17 days ago. Wow, it seems like it was at least a month ago. The healing this time seems to have accelerated triplefold! My scars look as old as the previous scars, not brand new. The "scaffolding" sutures used to form the crease underneath the breasts have loosened up and the look of the crease has softened to the point of almost looking natural.
Ah, "natural." That is the theme of this blog! Adjusting to carrying these new liquid stress balls around has been a true learning experience. As you know from previous blogs, I was actually looking forward to having some larger, noticeable breasts. I was well aware of the extra weight potentially causing problems such as back strain, poor posture, and so on. I also knew that men in particular may view me differently - pun intended!
SO MUCH MORE is affected when going from small breasts to larger, obviously fake breasts! Last night is one small example.
First of all, let me take you back to before I even left the house, yesterday. As I got out of the shower, I began planning what to wear. I had the additional challenge of knowing I could either wind up at a rugged racetrack, or a nice concert venue surrounded by upper class women in designer clothes. Let's add the ADDITIONAL challenge of having most of the clothing I own packed for a trip to California which is now postponed! I was scrambling for something that looked sexy, yet not like I was going clubbing (LOL). After about an hour of trying on everything I hadn't packed, I wound up tearing through a packed suitcase, desperate for a specific shirt and shorts that I knew looked good with the NEW boobs.
Sure enough! The races were canceled and I wound up in Reston with a bunch of rich folks, watching a fantastic free concert - C.J. Chenier and the Red Hot Louisiana Band - in my Billy Lane Choppers t-shirt and tight black denim shorts with cheap flip flops. At times, I felt really out of place, but enjoyed the concert and the entire evening, nonetheless.
In retrospect, I realize now that my feeling out of place revolved around my breasts and the adjustments I am going through at this stage in the process. So many things go on under the surface that people around me aren't aware of. I even went to the bathroom every couple of hours just to stare in the mirror trying to figure out if I looked freakishly disproportionate, just slightly "blessed" with a figure, or totally "normal." Then there are the thoughts that go through my OBSESSIVE head as I walk through the crowd:
- Did that guy stare at me because I have something on my face, or...
- Is my shirt too tight?
- Does everyone think I'm showing off my new implants? (Maybe I am, but I don't want them to know that, really.)
- Do I look like some "California Bimbo?" (Probably!)
- Maybe I should start HIDING my boobs more?!
- Why did I get these things???
- Did I massage them enough today? I've been busy, and maybe I'm letting too much scar tissue form while I'm out and about! I should just stay home for the next few months! :-/
- Did I pull too hard on that giant glass door? The doctor said not to do that, and now my boob is sore from it!
- Was that a dirty look she just gave me? Are women everywhere going to hate me even more now that I have boobs to go with my legs, hips and height? Why can't they just be happy for me?
Because of the self-conscious, insecure aspect involved in this transformation, I usually wind up completely blurting out that I had a double mastectomy and breast reconstruction to people who barely know me, have just met me, or simply stood too close to me to ESCAPE the story.
What I've noticed usually happens following my confession is that the innocent bystanders become very uncomfortable, and often seem to feel awkward, not knowing where to go with this new information. This is often followed by me feeling guilty for putting them in this miserable position! I usually respond by making some jokes about the new boobs, or SHOWING THEM PICTURES of the new scars! In my mind, I know both reactions are not the wisest choices, but I'm still adjusting.
Later in the night, I sat with some wonderful new friends, chatting away about the events of the evening and listening to random, light-hearted stories. Suddenly, somehow, the conversation turned to breasts, again. Did I do that? I tend to, being it's all I think about these days (no, guys, not in THAT way!). One of my new friends mentioned she recently had her breasts reduced. She was a triple G prior to the reduction! As she spoke of the back problems and other reasons she HATED having big breasts, I sat feeling a bit like the Yin and Yang symbols, facing each other - one reduced, and one enhanced. Then she said something about how she would NEVER get implants - they look so fake! Close to that confession, almost during it, I blurted out that I had just had my mastectomy and just received the final implants.
She was mortified, embarrassed, and terribly sorry for saying what she had said, but I couldn't be further from mad or hurt by it. What she didn't understand is that, to a point, I agree. Thanks to another friend and his difficulty dealing with all this, I am very aware of how FAKE I am now that I have big fake boobs! I have been very self-conscious, thinking EVERYONE I encounter just sees the "fake" me and assumes that this is my entire personality, not just my chest status. Maybe it is? If it is, it is only temporary, while I figure out how to accept the new me, and move forward with confidence. :-)
So, as I somewhat anticipated from the beginning, my miraculous metamorphosis is also taking place below the surface and beyond the physical. I am digging to the core of the REAL me - digging through the gummy bears and fake smiles, the boob jokes, and the "feel these" moments - to the heart and soul of who I REALLY am.
Maybe it took me becoming FAKE...
to truly become REAL?
The journey continues!
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