Necessity is the mother of invention

Greek philosopher, Plato, once said, "Necessity is the mother of invention." Though I've heard that saying since childhood, I never truly understood it until I became a teen. That's when I realized if I needed a solution to a problem, I could usually find a way to fix it. I've employed many techniques through the years to meet my needs, most of which have involved my love of crafting. 

This morning, as I was unpacking from our recent move, I came across a set of hand crocheted breast forms. I'd ordered the forms about 9 years ago from an organization called "Knitted Knockers." The organization was formed to help survivors of breast cancer and other breast surgeries with free breast substitutes. Volunteers made the forms by crocheting or knitting breast forms that could be filled with polyester fiberfill. The forms could be easily adjusted to fit the recipient's needs by either adding or removing the amount of fiberfill in each form. It was a wonderful concept, and I really liked the fact that the volunteers were willing to give their time and energy for such a worthy cause. 

Breast prostheses are very expensive, especially the silicone ones. Even with insurance, the forms can run hundreds of dollars. When my husband was working, it wasn't a problem but since he's retired, I've had to become more cost conscious. 

Finding the forms in my drawer was a blessing, but I remembered there had been a problem with them when I initially ordered them. The polyester fiberfill was so lightweight, the forms weren't heavy enough to weigh my bra down. That meant, with any movement, the bra would ride up and the forms wouldn't be in their proper place. Instead of being on my chest, where they should rightly reside, they would end up just beneath my collar bone and sometimes, under my chin! 

In the past, I did try to find a way of weighting the forms, so they'd stay put. But nothing I tried worked well. I tried marbles, I tried birdseed, I tried Play-Doh stuffed into plastic baggies and tucked beneath the fiberfill. Besides being uncomfortable against my chest, the forms continued to shift and move. 

But today, I had a new idea. 

An older friend had given me a large bag filled with black beans. She'd received them from a government assistance program for those on fixed incomes. Since I don't usually cook dried beans, I'd let the bag sit in my pantry for a couple of years. I figured one day, I'd make the effort to cook them, but never did. Since they were that old, I assumed they wouldn't be good to cook and eat, but they might just be good for something else. 

Taking the crocheted forms from my bedroom, I went into the kitchen and removed the fiberfill. It only took a couple of minutes to pull the stuffing out and pop it into the trashcan. I looked carefully at the forms. They'd been masterfully crafted and the volunteer who'd made them had even sewn on a small protective flap that could be tucked into the top of the form to hold in the contents. 

With the flap up, the bag of beans on the counter, and a box of Ziplock bags, I got busy. I tried to guess how many beans to put in each form to make them even but also constitute the typical B cup I'd been before surgery to remove my breasts. It was nearly impossible to do it without a funnel. After spilling beans all over my kitchen floor, I took a few minutes to think. There had to be a better way. 

I found a small plastic measuring cup that I used for measuring liquid Tylenol for my grandchildren. I emptied out one form and guestimated how many cups of beans I'd need. 8 tiny measuring cups seemed about right so I put that exact amount in the plastic bag, zipped it up, and tucked it in the breast form. Then I did the same for the other form. Placing a form in each hand, I weighed them against each other. They felt perfect!

I cleaned up my mess and took the forms into my bedroom. Pulling out a mastectomy bra, I slid a form in each of the breast pockets. Lifting the bra, I could tell the weight was sufficient and felt very similar to my silicone forms. 

Slipping the bra on, I fastened the hook and paid attention to how the bra felt. It didn’t' feel lumpy or uncomfortable. In fact, it felt much more comfortable than my old silicone forms. Hmm...maybe I was on to something. 

Looking into the top of my pantry, I noticed several other bags of dried beans. I had green and red lentils, Pinto beans, Navy beans, and Chickpeas. Maybe the lentils would have been a little better than the black beans, but since I eat lentils fairly often, I didn't want to waste them on the homemade boobs, plus, it would have taken much more of the lentils to fill up each form. 

I think my invention is pretty good. The plastic will keep the beans from sprouting with the heat of my body against them and keep them from escaping barring bumping into something sharp. The zipper on the bag should hold well, unless I failed to press it properly when sealing, so I should be good at least for a few months before I need to do a self-check. 

Bean boobs, ha! How funny! Necessity is definitely the mother of invention, but you could also say survivors find ways of making things work especially since many things related to cancer are so expensive. 

I'm not ashamed to admit I did this. I'm sure there are others out there who are more inventive than I am. Maybe I'll discover an even better process in the future, but until then, my pantry will be my go to source. My pantry is normally full, too. I'm a prepper at heart. But prepping doesn't just revolve around food, water, and survival items like that. Women who've endured double mastectomies know we only have two choices - to go flat or to wear prostheses. I go flat most days, but when I want a little projection, beans work pretty well. When innovation meets creativity, you never know what might happen!

The case of the missing boobs

In my house, you never know where my boobs will turn up. Wait a minute you say...what is she talking about??? I'll back up and explain for those of you who don't know. Almost 3 years ago,  I had both of my breasts removed due to breast cancer. After surgery, I chose not to have reconstruction. I didn't want to go through the pain of more surgery. The breast surgeon said if I didn't choose reconstruction I'd have to either be flat chested forever or wear prostheses. I figured my best choice would be to remain flat chest for most of the time and wear prostheses only when necessary. It's worked out pretty well for me.

My first set of silicone breasts were a large C cup. The fitter at the little boutique selling after care items for breast cancer patients encouraged me to go with a large cup size. She said the prostheses needed to match my body. (I guess that was her way of saying I was overweight or of large stature?) I had no idea what I was doing so I trusted her. I went home with those heavy breast forms. The first time I tried to wear them, I felt so weighted down. My natural breasts hadn't been that heavy and certainly weren't that large. Needless to say, I only wore them once.

Around the house, I don't wear my prostheses. I'm more comfortable sans breasts. My husband and children have gotten used to seeing me this way and think nothing of it. When I go out in public, I do wear the prostheses. I'm still not comfortable being without breasts when I'm around others. I guess I don't want to disappoint them or have the constant stares that come with judgmental eyes.

We were on the way to the nursing home recently to visit my mother so I slipped on my mastectomy  bra and prostheses. I knew we'd be gone all day and would probably go out to eat. Although uncomfortable to wear all day, the prostheses were going with me.

The ride to the nursing home was long. We had a good visit with my mother and on the way back home, stopped for a quick dinner out. On the way home, I told my husband I was tired of wearing my boobs. He said, "Why don't you take them off then?" (I've made a point to remove my boobs whenever I felt I couldn't wear them one second longer. My family is used to me whipping them off at random places and times.) I've gotten quite adept at removing my bra and prostheses without removing my blouse. I smiled at him in silent agreement. "Here they go," I said as I unbuttoned the sleeves of my blouse, reached inside, grabbed my bra straps and pulled them down until I could slip my arm through. After getting my arms free, I reached up and under the back of my blouse to unhook my bra. Next I grabbed one of the bra straps through the armhole of my blouse and gave it a quick yank. The bra and prostheses came out easily. I threw them into the back seat of the car and breathed a sigh of relief. I was so thankful to have the excess weight removed. When we reached home a couple of hours later, we were both exhausted. We went inside just as it was getting dark and got ready for bed.

The following day, I had a doctors appointment. After showering and getting my makeup on, I was ready to get dressed. I'd already picked out my clothes and had them lying across my bed so they wouldn't get wrinkled. I slipped on my pants, socks and shoes. I went to my dresser drawer to pull out my bra and prostheses. I keep my silicone breast forms in two small round zippered cases with built in sling hammocks. The little hammocks are to keep the forms from being damaged. As I looked inside the cases, the breast forms weren't there. Now where in the world had I put them? I went into the kitchen to look. Sometimes I leave them on the kitchen table when I come in from a trip. They weren't there. I looked in all the usual places and couldn't find them. That's when it hit me. My boobs must still be in the back of my husband's car! Quickly, I sent him a text and asked if he'd take a look. He left the warehouse and went out to the parking lot. Sure enough, my bra and boobs were lying in plain view on the backseat of his car! I couldn't help but laugh as he told me. I wondered what his coworkers thought as they passed by his car and noticed the intimate apparel with flesh colored silicone breasts peeking out. Did they think he was a transvestite or transgender person??? Heaven forbid!

I remembered I some microbead breast forms I'd made last year for a summer trip to the beach. I dug them out of my closet and put them into another mastectomy bra. Without weights in them, the bra kept crawling upward as I moved. Pretty soon, the bra and boobs were practically under my chin! This was inconvenient! I stripped that get up off and decided I'd just go to the doctor without anything on. If I chose a print or checked blouse, it wouldn't be quite as evident that I was flat chested.

When my husband came home from work later that evening with my bra dangling from his fingertips, I was so embarrassed. I asked if he got teased by any of the guys at work. He told me none of the guys had seen my gear. I was so thankful! I guess I'm going to have to be a little more selective about when and where I strip off my boobs. I'd certainly hate to have them turn up unexpectedly at a most inopportune time.