So here we are the eve of Flat Friday (yes I know it’s gone midnight but shush!). This week has gone so fast it seems I haven’t had time to do anything let alone think.
Such lovely messages this evening being left for me by some lovely people, it’s really nice to think I am in some people’s thoughts. It’s also amazing how many people have supported the fundraiser for York Breast Friends. The raffle is going on until the end of the month so please get involved .. you can find out more here https://m.facebook.com/yorkbreastfriendsfundraiser/
Someone asked me tonight if I’m worried about the op. In honesty.. the op..no it’s just surgery, the doctors know what they are doing and I’m sure will do it well. It’s what comes after that is terrifying me.
As I’ve said before I’ve always been Bertha big boobs, I’ve never tried to hide them and infact actively displayed them on more than one occasion.
I have always been proud that no matter what I weigh my hips and bust have been equal with a smaller waist. Damn it I am proud of my hourglass figure, and the whole vintage 50s thing I have going on works because of it. (Also check out the hair and eyebrows too.. damn you chemo!)
I know it’s only temporary until I am reconstructed and that the cancer is better gone etc etc but they are a big (obviously!) Part of me and my personality and I’m gonna miss the cheeky pair.
Where am I gonna keep my spare change? Where will my crumbs fall now? What will blokes stare at in the pub!! These are all answers I do not have.
I am not too proud to admit I am scared. I’m scared that I won’t be able to look at myself, I’m scared my whole style that I fought so hard to keep will change, I’m scared I’m going to go back to that time and headspace again where I hated myself. Yes there are prostethics.. but there will always be an edge.. a break between where my bust should be and where they begin. I will look and be different.
I’ve fought so hard to keep me throughout this whole process, yet ultimately cancer gets to take a big part of me and I can’t stop that… not without risking my life anyway. Fuck you cancer.. what right do you have to do this?
I know, especially tonight with the atrocities happening in Nice, that sat here crying about my boobs is vain, that in the grand scheme of things it shouldn’t matter but tonight it does, and I’m sure over the next few days there will be lots more whilst I adjust to being less Jessica Rabbit and more Olive Oyl.
So wherever you are please think of me at 7.30 am as I am admitted, maybe say a little prayer if you that way inclined, if not at least offer a quick message up to ask that my surgeon not be suddenly struck with a case of hand tremors.
For now I’m off to try to sleep. I’m kidding… I’m going to lay here and worry for the next few hours and fall asleep about 20 minutes before my alarm goes off.
See you all on the other (flat) side xx