A photo journal beyond the Pink Ribbon (not for sensitive viewers)

 First I had boobs … then I did not.  
Lots of things change for a person.  Nipples are the things that we most prize and when they are gone we are lost.  
We cannot do up the buttons of a top because the boobs are direction finders.  After mastectomies we should be given GPS so that we can do those buttons up the front easily.  It takes practice when you no longer have points of reference.
And along with your nipples goes your sensitivity of others seeing you naked.  You just don’t give a continental damn anymore.
Another problem I had is the language I use.  I often said the following:
“You getting on my tits”  Now I have to say “You getting on my used-to-be tits”, or find some other way of telling people they annoying me.
“That situation is like sandpaper on my nipples” was another one I used often.   What can be worse than that?  I have not found a suitable alternative other than to say “You are pissing on my battery”.
Lots of things change when you don’t have boobs – the things you have lived with for so long.    It is not a bed of roses and you don’t get many flowers either.  And no one wants to talk about it either.
I have chosen not to have reconstruction because I have other health issues and spend too much time in hospital anyway.
This is a picture journal of how I lost my boobs … It is just half the story of my missing boobs.  There were another six months of operations and hospitalizations before I got to the point where I am starting to feel comfortable in my skin.  However, I can never dry myself after a shower or bath without feeling somehow “odd”.   Perhaps I still need time to assimilate the loss of my boobs … which is in fact, an amputation of your breasts.
There is a lot more pain and frustration behind that little pink ribbon.  I know. 




















































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