Breast Hokey Pokey
You put your right breast in, you take your right breast out, you put your right breast in and you shake it all about…
About 8 years ago, I decided to have breast augmentation. The two years prior, I had lost over 200 pounds and was left with, what I like to call, Gym Sock Boobs. Imagine, if you will, a tennis ball in the toe section of an old gym sock. Put another one next to it and, voila, you have Gym Sock Boobs. When I’d lay on my back, those suckers would end up in my arm pits. After working so very hard at trying to be thin and healthy, I was left with a lot of loose skin. I had implants put in and all was well in my self-image.
Then came breast cancer.
And all the treatments associated with breast cancer.
Here I am, two years after completing treatment and I now have an implant that is trying to run away from where the evil cancer once lurked. Picture it…a round glob inside of me traveling the path of least resistance. North East is the direction that it’s taken and soon, I’m certain that my chin will be resting on its own little boob shelf.
It hurts. I could probably live with the disfigurement by continuing to lean to the right and back a little to keep the view correct to those that were coming head on, however, the pain that comes with a runaway implant isn’t something that I can mask or ignore.
In two weeks, I’ll be going back to the same plastic surgeon that I visited all those years ago and will be having her rip out my girls (formerly known as Lucy and Ethel since they made me laugh). She’s going to pluck them out, send them on their way to the lab for examination and then lift up what I’ve got left. I asked (begged) for her to suck fat out of my butt and fill the empty space with my ass excess, but she said that I had a sufficient amount of tissue to carry off a regular lift without assistance from my butt, thighs or stomach. Hmph.
New names for the girls…Itty and Bitty.