For months and month's they've been waiting, waiting to be taken out...my girls. Patiently they've lain in their little pink pill boxes on my dresser. I've seen them every day, but have paid them no mind. It wasn't time...but today, they're getting to go out! They'll have a trial run.I was scared to pick them up. Before even going over to their boxes, I began to cry. I told my husband I didn't know if I could do this. He was so sweet to hold me in his arms and say, "if you can't, don't. No one will know. No one needs to be looking at your chest anyway." I stood close to his warmth for a few minutes letting him console me and and then I moved away. I wiped the tears from my eyes and determined that I was going to do this.
My prostheses, I'll call them Thing 1 and Thing 2 (thank you Dr. Seuss), are so heavy. As I lift Thing 1 and hold her in my hands, I'm overcome with emotion. This pinkish, silicone breast form feels cold and squishy between my fingers. Suddenly, I heard a voice in my head saying, "Be careful with your new breasts," the woman at the fitting salon had told me; "never let them get damaged or punctured because if they do, they'll leak silicone all over the place and these things cost a fortune to replace." I took Thing 1 and gently slipped her into my lace lined Mastectomy bra. She looked lonely as she lay there facing down. I took Thing 2 out of her little pink pill box and held her in my hand. She was her sister's twin. I slipped Thing 2 gently into her little pocket on my bra and stood there holding the bra by the shoulder straps for a long time. I looked at it from all angles. The bra was very heavy with both girls in tow. I didn't know if I could do this.
I went into the bathroom and locked the door. Why I locked it, I don't really know. My husband was the only other person in the house. I guess I didn't want him to walk in and see me trying on this new Mastectomy bra...it would be so embarrassing. I slipped one arm and then the other into the bra. It felt awkward and unnatural. I hadn't worn a bra in 4 months. I felt like such a rebel. I hadn't need to wear one. My chest had been so raw and so painful from surgery and radiation that I would never have dreamed of even trying to put one on...but today was different.
Reaching back, I struggled to hook the bra in place. I remembered the first time I'd ever worn a bra. I was 8 and it wasn't a real bra anyway...it was a training bra...a little lace, spandex slip of fabric my mother had purchased to make me feel better because all my friends at school were getting their little breast buds and they were getting new bras. I didn't have any. I was flat as a pancake, but still, she wanted me to fit in. She wanted me to feel like the rest of the girls felt. She had to help me fasten the hook and eye closure back then...how I wished she were here to help me fasten this one now. Finally I managed to hook first one and then the other of the two hooks on the clasp. I took Thing 1 in my hand and adjusted her to a more normal position. I did the same thing with Thing 2. Stepping back from the mirror, I glared at myself. This was the first time the girls had been in "go" position. I took my hands and gently gave them a squeeze. I needed to see how they would feel if someone accidentally bumped into me. They had to pass the "real boobie feeling test." Silicone is a great thing, I thought, as I squeezed them a little harder. Yes, they passed.
Into the closet I went to see if I could find a shirt that would be comfortable. Not only did I need one that buttoned all the way up the front, but I also needed one that would fit over my Lymphedema sleeves. Such a dilemma! I tried on several shirts before finding a red plaid one that worked. I buttoned it up and went back to look at myself in the mirror. No one would know they weren't real! I turned sideways and checked...pretty good!
I looked at the clock and it was almost 11:00. We needed to leave soon. "Okay, girls," I said, "it's time to go." I gave them a little shift and slipped on my coat. "It's cold outside...are you ready?" of course they didn't answer back, but with falsies, at least I know they won't react to the cold weather in a tale tell way like real breasts do! And if they start to get too heavy later in the day, I'll just slip off my bra and throw it into the back seat. At least I have that option.
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