While I'm getting dressed I stop and look in the mirror before putting my bra on. My breasts are large (38I) but they're mine.
I look closer, they're pendulous (isn't that a word used to describe breasts on 80 year old women), they're uneven. My left side is a decent bit larger then my right.
They aren't perfect, but again they are mine. I wouldn't mind perky breasts. I'd love for them to be even and fit into a bra the same way. But this wouldn't be my breasts perfected, there will be nothing left of my former breasts.
I'm just not sure if I am psyching myself up or out.
I'm chatting with my friend Ali about my surgical options. I accidentally referred to them as "mipples". I joked that if people call the "foobs" then I can refer to them as "mipples" (mock nipples).
We had a good laugh about it but when the joke dies down I put my hands on my chest. It's cold and my nipples are sticking out. It used to annoy me when my nipples got hard and looked like they could cut glass. Now I don't know how to feel about them. One one hand they are mine, on the other they could potentially kill me.
Thursday is the plastic surgeon and my MRI. I have a notebook full of questions for the doctor but the one question that scares me the most isn't really for the doctor...what will I do if they find something in the MRI?
I will endure. I know that. I remind myself that. And I take a deep breath and face tomorrow.