"Hi, can I talk to you for a second?" I asked nervously. The beautiful brunette with bronze, sun-kissed skin propped herself up on her elbows as the sweat ran down her tummy and stopped at her belly button. She was probably the most stunning young woman I have ever seen and I had been debating whether or not to speak to her all afternoon while I sat in the comatose heat at my condo's pool.
I spent my Sunday afternoon doing something I never thought I would. I went to the pool, despite the crippling heat, and did a bit of "window shopping." I know it sounds ridiculous and even slightly perverted, but looking at balloons filled with liquid really doesn't give me a sense of what I want my new breasts to look like. Do I want to be a B or C? Round or tear-drop? Saline or silicone? I feel like this is the one choice in this whole journey that I actually get to make for ME. No one else has a say (unless I ask for opinions) and I can have anything I want. It's exciting.
Luckily, one of my closest girlfriends, Marisa, has been investing time in doing my research for me. She found out that silicone is actually the recommended choice for women who have reconstruction done because they are now FDA approved to be incredibly safe. Another plus is that they are gel-filled so they give you a much more natural look and feel without any rippling (which can happen due to the thin layer of tissue and skin that is left over after the mastectomy). She also found two websites that you can enter your height and weight and see women's breast of all different sizes on your body type. AMAZING! How else am I supposed to know what I want without seeing actual breasts on my body type? My lovely friend, who I am so bless to have in my life, has taken my worry and anxiety away by doing this research and helping me find "the perfect girls" for me. Thank you, Sweets!
"Sure thing," said the beautiful brunette. "I don't want this to be awkward or to offend you in anyway ..." I responded. With that opening her boyfriend quickly sat up in his chair and looked at me defensively. Great, I thought to myself. "... My name is Jennifer and I am battling breast cancer." Both of their faces turned sullen. "I am preparing for breast surgery and don't know what I want, but I love your boobs." As though he had created them himself, her boyfriend sat up a little taller and looked so incredibly proud. Typical male reaction, I thought. A smile came across her face and she thanked me for the compliment. She said she was a C, but recently they have gotten bigger and she could even fit into some D-cups. Hmm ... a little bigger than what I was anticipating. Obviously I need to pay better attention to the boobs in my life. I thanked her and apologized again if I made her uncomfortable. She said, "No, not at all. I'm happy to help."
I spoke to two other women at the pool that day, approaching them as though I was inquiring about needing a tissue. One woman was a small B and the other a full B/small C. I felt like Goldilocks that afternoon searching for the perfect porridge. My beautiful brunette friend was too big, the small B was too small and the full B/small C looked just right. The good news is, I have time to think about it and continue my "window shopping" and research. So beware while sunbathing, because if I am in your vicinity I may approach you and inquire about your lovely girls.
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