New Foobs

So, the time has come.  I'm officially off to get my new boobs tomorrow (often also called Foobs: Fake + Boobs = Foobs, get it?).  Now if you had ever asked me whether I'd ever be choosing between silicon or saline, I would have called you crazy (I chose silicon by the way, they're more smooshy).  But here I am, going in to get a boob job.  Ok, ok, I didn't really choose.  I mean I guess I could have chosen not to do a reconstruction, but is it really a choice?  I mean, I wouldn't have chosen to get a boob job had they not been lopped off in the first place, and now that I've gone through all this stretching... well, it's just the logical thing to do.  Not to mention, what's wrong with wanting to have a perky pair until I'm 85.  So move over Pam Anderson.  I'm joining the ranks, except, well, smaller and with some visible scars, and oh yeah, no breast tissue. But I'll never have to wear a bra again!!! Well, at least not for functional purposes.  Take that suckers!! Maybe this isn't so bad after all.

Alright, alright, now for all of you who are wondering what this surgery is all about, I have to take you back to April 1, 2008 (yes April Fools Day, hilarious, hilarious).  So on April Fools Day 2008, I DT, went in to have my Boobs, not to be mistaken with Foobs, chopped off.  Now I know that sounds morbid, but that's what happened.  One day I had them and the next day, they were gone.  Now here's where the biotechnology gets really cool.  So you would think that once they chop 'em off, you would simply just replace the tissue with implants then and there.  The problem is, to ensure that they get ALL the cancer, they take away some skin along with the breast tissue.  So unfortunately, you're left with less skin, which would make putting implants in very painful, and potentially impossible, since you may not have enough skin to cover them.  So what do they do?  If you're eligible, they put these uninflated implants called tissue expanders in to slowly stretch your skin so that it becomes stretched out enough to fit a regular sized implant in.  These expanders have self-sealing magnets so that the plastic surgeon can inject the expanders with saline every few weeks without puncturing the implant, allowing you to stretch your skin over time.  I'll tell you, going in for a fill has taken on new meaning.  Imagine watching someone stick a syringe in you and watch your breast just blow up in front of your eyes.  Crazy!!!!  

Anyway, you can imagine that having plastic implants with magnets in them doesn't feel, shall we say, natural.  So once you're stretched out to your heart's content, they go in and exchange the expanders for permanent implants.  The permanent implants are either saline or silicon and are contoured to look like a natural breast and are much shmooshier.  I know that in the land of real boobs, smooshy is a bad word, but in the land of Foobs, the smooshier the better.  Don't want people rebounding off of you everytime they get a hug.

So, tomorrow I get my magnet free, smooshy, contoured, silicon Foobs, and how do I feel about it?  Honestly, I'm freaking out.  I mean, they say that this surgery provides almost immediate relief from the discomfort caused by the expanders, but the last three times I was in the hospital, let's just say, those visits didn't inspire confidence.  First there was the time that I sat in a hallway in my hospital gown, with no underwear for 6 hours, waiting for surgery (even the nurse on duty left for the day, and there I was still sitting), causing a nationwide search because my friends thought I'd passed out in my apartment (at least I know my network works).  Next, I had a surgeon try to force me to take my appendix out even though I didn't have appendicitis, causing my Dad to get shingles from all the stress.  Finally, the last time I was in the hospital, it took two nurses, three doctors and an ultrasound machine to find a vein and get an IV in me.  Let's just say, that my faith in hospitals and surgeons, is well, a little shaky.  So even though I know that my plastic surgeon (PS for short) is one of the best in the city, particularly known for his Foobs, I'm well, pretty much thinking of calling the whole thing off.  The only saving grace is that my first surgery, the big one on April Fools, went off without a hitch, and my PS was at that one too, so maybe, just maybe, this visit will be less eventful.  

Anyway, the next time I talk to you, I'll be a new woman.  In the meantime, here's a picture of me from halloween.  I officially have fuzz on my head.   Wish me luck!!

Thanks as always for reading.

Straight from the trenches,

DT

So much to say....

So little time.  I admit, I am a few posts behind.  I got a dog, I started work last week, dressed up for halloween, and tonight I watched history unfold before me as the United States elected an African American president.  What can I say, change is amiss.  So what do I write about amidst all of this activity.  Do I write about myself as the world watches this historic moment?  Seems somewhat insignificant in light of the less palatable changes we've seen over the past weeks.  Do I write about my job, as thousands continue to lose theirs everyday.  All I can say is that I'm thankful for the support my law firm has offered me throughout this chaotic time in my life.  Do I write about politics...well, frankly, there are people much better equipped to write about this subject, and my small words would get lost amidst the largess of this moment, so for now, I'll write about halloween.

To be honest, I wasn't looking forward to halloween this year.  As an adult, halloween is about confronting your inhibitions and facing your fears... and for single girls, its about dressing as sexy as you can, because it's the only occasion that allows ladies to put a mask on and dress like a tart.  Well, for me, this year has been about confronting my fears.  For me, sexuality has been redefined, forcing me to allow other parts of me to shine through, and find comfort in allowing people to see the person, rather than the body, the hair or the face.  So when faced with halloween, it seemed unusually empty and inhibiting.  You see, as everyone put their masks on for the evening, to take on the character of somebody else, I longed to take mine off and finally allow people to see myself.  For months I've been applying my makeup, wearing my wigs and hiding my disease.  Well this halloween, as everyone put on their wigs for the night, I decided to take mine off.  I walked out of my door onto the streets of new york with a fuzzy head and no hair to hide my face, and with every stride, I felt beautiful.  And yes, people asked, and the subject came up as I silently shared my secret.  And none of it mattered.  Because the one night where I could have been anyone else... I chose to be me.  I chose to me.

Now since halloween, I have put on my wig and continued to mask the battle wounds.  But as I said at the start, change is in the air, and for the same reason that the United States elected Barak Obama, even with my wig I feel less burdened.  Eventually, I will permanently shed my masks, but in the meantime, I finally feel hope.

Thanks as always for reading.

Straight from the trenches,

DT