Tissue Expanders - Not For Use As A Flotation Device



 2 years before my mastectomy
Photo by Eric Von Bargen

I was a small breasted woman. AA cup to be exact. I have endured flat chested jokes for as long as I can remember. I have invested in padded bras, chicken cutlets and various other lifters, shapers and such just to achieve the illusion of well-endowed (or at least somewhat endowed). To no avail. So would it surprise you, that in college I  bought a bikini top that inflated just like a child's raft? All I had to do was pop open the tab, blow on the tubing and voila...voluptuous vixen or probably more like tumultuous toddler. You be the judge.

I used to laugh with my girlfriends that the suit came with a warning label attached: "Not for use as a flotation device." Really? I thought. That needs a label? An advisement? I imagined some poor warning- tagless woman adrift having drowned with her boobs floating on the water. Humor and ingenuity in it's best masculine form.

Drown the woman, save the breasts!

 

After my bilateral mastectomy, I have been blessed with what I call my circus freak show boobs. These are tissue expanders that are implanted under my chest muscle and filled with a needle and saline weekly for a period of time to expand my skin and make room for the final implants that will take up permanent residence.

They are uncomfortable to say the least but not unbearable. Imagine, rounded Tupperware, if you would under your skin that gets larger right before your very eyes. Freaky and a little painful but oh the curves! I must say this is the best part of the whole ordeal. I finally have boobs, plastic as they may be but I have boobs. I don't have to inflate them or stuff them into my bra and hope they don't pop out at dinner while I'm gesticulating some super important point . My clothes fit better. My confidence is higher and my daydreams of lying hilariously adrift on the ocean are all but gone.

Please don't misunderstand. Life in this body is not ideal. It is not merely a cosmetic boob job, though I have no problem with those. I have absolutely no feeling in my breasts nor am I likely to ever have it again. I do not have the ability to feel pleasure or arousal in these new boobs. They feel like an appendage not quite unlike my elbow. They are not soft, or sensual at all and at the moment have no nipples only scars that constantly remind me of my loss. I have trouble hugging the people I love and am truly uncomfortable when my 6 year old son sits in my lap though I wouldn't dare tell him. My daughter can't bear to look at them and turns away when I walk into the room topless.

So am I lucky? I would say no. Am I alive? Yes. For now I'll focus on the curves and give the middle finger to all my pubescent friends who made fun of my AA chest. And with all of the grace, elegance and civility I can muster, I will proudly say "Suck it! and Excuse me but my eyes are up HERE!"