The day after my sixth cancerversary, I made a trek to Fayetteville to pick up my new bras and boobs. Every two years, insurance allows me to get 4 new bras and a set of new prostheses. Most people don't know silicone prostheses degrade over time and two years is about as long as they keep their shape with normal wear. Usually, when I drive to the little boutique that sells the mastectomy bras and prostheses, I feel anxious. I don't know why I feel that way but I assume it's due to post cancer PTSD. This time it was different. I felt elation. I was going to pick up a vital portion of my femininity. Since having both breasts removed in 2014 and foregoing reconstruction, the only way I felt I looked feminine was with the addition of mastectomy bras and prostheses. Oh sure, I could have taken a old bra and stuffed it with polyester fiberfill or socks or something, but it wouldn't be the same. It wouldn't feel like my natural breasts and it surely wouldn't look like
Moving from survival to thrival one day at a time