Throwing inhibition to the wind

I used to be ultra modest. I was probably so modest that most would have even called me a prude. I used to get undressed in my closet when I was growing up because I shared a room with my sister and I didn't want anyone, not even my sister, to see me without clothes on.

I have no idea when I became so concerned with my body image. Perhaps it was when I began to go through puberty. I do remember feeling really strange as my mother talked to me about the physical changes I'd begin to go through, and I think I remember fourth grade being the point of no return...

Through my teenage years and even into my married life, I've remained very self conscious about my body. When I was in Girl Scouts, I always made sure to undress in the bathroom or in the darkness of my tent. I'd wiggle way down into my sleeping bag and somehow manage to remove my clothes and slip into my pajamas. When I was invited to sleepovers with my friends, I never removed my clothing in front of them. I always made some excuse to slip into another room where I could have privacy. You'd think by the time I was married, I would have lost my modesty, wouldn't you? But, no...I continued my routine of dressing and undressing in the bathroom or under cover of darkness. My modesty grew into inhibition and while I knew it was odd behavior, I continued to do it.

So when did I throw inhibition to the wind? I'd have to say about 3 months after my double mastectomy. Right after surgery, I still tried to cover myself and keep people from seeing my hideous scars, but as I found myself in the midst of treatment and constantly having to remove my top, I had my AHA moment! It was as if a lightening bolt struck me smack dab on the head..."why are you so concerned? You don't have any boobs any longer! There's nothing to see!" At that point, I realized there was freedom in being able to remove my blouse without fear or dread.

I'm no longer embarrassed when medical staff ask me to undress in front of them. In all actuality, I just whip off my shirt and sit there topless, without a care in the world, while they talk to me. It feels a little strange to be so comfortable in my own skin, but without breasts, I have nothing to hide. My scars are my battle wounds. They are evidence that I've been through a horrible war and they are my badges of honor. I'm proud of them! Yes, if you were to see them, you'd probably cringe. They aren't pretty by any means. They're very ugly...about 12 inches long, angry reddish purple, about a half inch or more in width...can you get a good visual of the surgeon's scalpel slicing across my chest? I'm sure you get the idea by now. So how have I been able to become so bold in revealing my skin when I used to be so insecure and inhibited? I can think of no other way than God.

God has given me the freedom to accept myself just as I am. When I first went through surgery, I was horrified. I had to make myself look at my body about a week after my scars had begun to heal. I was terrified to look down at my chest and see that I'd been robbed of my femininity. But over the months, as my scars and my emotions have healed, God has done a wonderful thing! He's even given me a sense of humor about it all. Take today, for instance.

I had an appointment with the dentist. I'd had one earlier in the year and had cancelled it because I just didn't quite feel up to going to yet another medical appointment. My teeth needed to be cleaned and I knew I was going to have to keep this appointment, so I began to get ready. I took a shower and put on my makeup. Before I got dressed, I stood looking at myself in the mirror...should I, or shouldn't I? I stood there wondering whether or not to wear my FOOBS (my fake boobs, my silicone girls). I was feeling pretty good and I hadn't taken them out in a while, so I opted to wear them. I went into my bedroom and carefully lifted them out of their boxes (the little pink, round, hatboxes they'd given me at the prosthetic store). "Come on girls, we're goin' for a spin," I said as I slid them into my mastectomy bra. I slipped first one strap, then the other over my shoulders and carefully reached around to fasten the clasp. I slipped on my blouse, pants, and shoes. I grabbed my purse, cell phone and keys and headed out the door.

As I was driving to the dentist's office, I listened to the radio. It was a beautiful day. I was happy that I felt good. Good days are few and far between lately, but I've been getting some good sleep thanks to the Ambien my doctor just prescribed, and it's making a difference. I pulled into the parking lot and got out of the car. As I reached for the door to his office, I remembered that his staff hadn't seen me in almost a year.

When I walked up to the receptionist's counter, the front office staff greeted me happily. "Hi, Mrs. Annis! How are you? It's good to see you!" (I'd become sort of a celebrity since they'd last seen me. One of the local reporters had done a piece on breast cancer awareness in October and had done a full page spread on me and my story. There were photos and interviews with my family members. Almost everyone in our town had seen it.) I smiled back at them and returned their greetings. When they asked how I was doing, I grinned and said, "fantastic, and I even wore my boobs for you today!" Yes, I'd say I've thrown inhibition to the wind...no more modesty for me! I guess that could be a good thing or maybe even a bad thing, at times...."

The receptionist was taken aback by my statement and then she laughed and said, "you didn't have to wear your boobs just for us...in fact, next time, feel free not to wear them." "I just might do that," I told her...freedom...AHHHH!

© bonnie annis all rights reserved