Boobless in a Busty World

I decided to start posting my articles instead of just putting a link to Medium. I realize not everyone wants to subscribe there! So here ‘tis!
Thanks for reading!

It’s been a few months since I bid farewell to my boobs. I was never big busted, so the change hasn’t been too weird. What is strange is seeing the scars where my breasts once were. The surgeon did an amazing job and I am happy with her work.

I had a few breast cancer sisters ask me if I wanted to take photos or even a cast of my breasts before they would meet their fate in Mayo’s operating room. My answer was a big no. As a recovering Catholic fully baptized in the doctrine of body shame, I just couldn’t do it.

And as a professional organizer with minimalist leanings, I have trouble picturing where the hell I would put a plaster cast of my boobs. Over a fireplace mantle? (That would require a new home as I have no fireplace.) On display like a dressmaker’s form? Do a paper mache corset?

I have seen a lot of bizarre items in my years helping people dredge out closets and I gotta admit, excavating a plaster cast of someone’s boobs would be, um, uh…well, yeah.

Nah. No memorializing my boobs. Besides, they tried to kill me so good riddance. No pictures, no cast. No send off parties featuring cupcakes with gumdrop nipples on top either. It was a simple decision.

As was my decision to go flat. Perhaps simple isn’t the right word. But it was what popped out of my mouth after the surgeon told me I was looking at a bilateral mastectomy. I don’t want reconstruction.

Upon reflection, I believe my body’s wisdom was guiding my decision. My words came straight from my heart-no mental gyrations. No pros and cons list. No statistics review or analysis paralysis.

The surgeon was relieved to hear me say that, as I wouldn’t have been a good candidate for a lumpectomy or reconstruction, she said. The left breast (which had the primary tumor) was too scarred from previous injuries and the right breast had three tumors.

Getting a cancer diagnosis is like getting on a speeding train. The decisions you must make are serious and life changing. And they are made under extreme duress. It’s like trying to decide if you should grab the precious family heirlooms before the house burns down.

I’ve always adhered to the wisdom of “never make a big decision when you’re in a sandstorm” and have found it has served me well.

Well, cancer doesn’t give a hoot about that helpful tidbit. The house is burning down, there is a sandstorm and oh look! Up there in the sky! It’s a bird, it’s a plane, no wait! It’s a fucking meteor. And it’s heading straight for you. Decide!

At least, that is what it feels like.

I am grateful the cancer I had was of the “slow and lazy” type, so I had a little time to process the decision after my knee jerk “no reconstruction” stance. And yeah, then there were those pesky contraindications.

Truth is, I didn’t realize “going flat” was even a thing. But it is. The Washington Post even had a big article on it. (Psssst! They even featured my comment on the article!)

Many women are pressured into reconstruction. Or, their wishes to go flat are ignored and the surgeon will leave enough skin and tissue for future reconstruction, as illustrated in this article. The surgeon in the article really takes the cake for arrogance.

Since my surgery, I have learned a lot about reconstruction and I thank my lucky stars that my surgeon and I were on the same page right out of the chute.

Reconstruction means facing multiple surgeries, the risk of infection, Breast Implant Illness (BII) possibility, and so on. I’ve also learned of the risk of cancer reoccurrence hiding behind implants. And oh my. I’ve seen enough pictures of botched mastectomies and reconstruction that make my toes curl. (How do some surgeons get away with such negligence?)

Yeah, no thanks. Just chop off the boobs and let’s move on with life. I am not my breasts.

That was my decision. I honor the women who decide for reconstruction. My only hope is they get accurate information about the risks and the time and surgeries they are signing up for. And fer-the-love of God, please find a surgeon who will honor your wishes and have plenty of pictures to prove a job well done.

A lot of women worry about how they will look flat only to find out that the amount of people who notice or even carry is exactly zero. This has been my experience as well.

My biggest concern isn’t how my flat profile will fill tops, but how the scars will heal. I’ve been a keloid former, so the possibility of the scars getting out of hand (as in getting red, ropey and growing beyond the initial scar), isn’t far flung.

One thing I am NOT concerned about is a recurrence in my breast because, yeah babee, they are gone.

I don’t miss them.