So many people have commented and indeed congratulated me on my strength. It is true that I have surprised even myself on how I have coped. Much of it is to do with my personality, the no fuss and drama me (though I can create both when provoked). Also because I like to have information before panicking and try to be optimistic in these matters. But make no mistake having breast cancer was the worst and scariest thing I have ever had to face. Losing one of my lovely breasts has been terrible, I morn it every day. In this post I will try to explain my then and now. There is no need to be sorry about any of this, I don’t need sympathy, just the chance to tell.
Until pregnancy I was quite small busted, but while pregnant they grew and never went down. I always had a good cleavage and many people, men and women have admired it. High necked clothes don’t suit me, my face and neck look too fat in them. I prefer a lower cut dress or top. My bras were all plunging, not padded as they made me look bigger than I wanted, but underwired for support. Not that I was sagging especially; I was told I had great tits for my age (former relationship) and great tits full stop (this one). To me, with my expanding middle and puckered hips, my tits were my best asset.
Once I gained confidence with my blog and began posting pictures of myself, they were often of my breasts. My pierced nipples, me bulging out of a leather waistcoat or wearing a leather harness. Master called them my jugs and played with them a lot. My nipples, especially the right were very sensitive and I have had nipple orgasms more than once. To me my breasts were my best asset and I am fucking angry and mightily sad that I now only have one.
The skin around the wound is soft and smooth, but the scar line itself is kind of puckered with little folds. The area under my arm remains numb and puffy. No one can tell me if and when it will recover. I touch the wound area quite a lot. During the day the area under my bra gets hot and itchy and sometimes I can’t help but rub it. Obviously not out in public but in the comfort of my living room. Lying in bed too, I stroke it. You see, most of the time I can’t really tell I don’t have a boob there and of course neither can anyone else.
I have a silicone prosthesis that fits inside my bra, it looks (and feels according to master) pretty realistic. But you can’t wear this kind of thing with a skimpy bra with a plunging cleavage. This means that I have bought several new bras, but not thrown any of the 15 or more old ones I have away. However I may soon move them into a box under the bed for the future (see below).
Master still loves to play with the breast and nipple on the left side. He strokes and nibbles, pulls and pinches. He also strokes the place where my right one used to be. But it isn’t the same. Even when I am aroused by what he is doing, I am thinking of what I have lost. His fingers on my wound area and surroundings are pleasant, but there is no sexual arousal from it. Instead he concentrates on the left and my other erogenous zones.
The biggest challenge for me now though is looking at other people’s tits. While I still love to look at everyone’s Sunday and other day blog and twitter posts. I can’t help but feel a twinge when I see a lovely pair of tits staring out at me. Likewise looking at old photos of myself makes me happy that I have so many, but sad that there will be no more like them. I also find myself looking for signs of the cancer within, of course there was never any sign.
I know these feelings will pass. It has, after all only been 3 months since the operation and my treatment won’t be completed until the end of this month.
In the future I hope to have a breast reconstruction. To be able to show two breasts to myself, to Master and this little area of the world would be wonderful. I know any reconstructed breast won’t be the same. It is likely that the surgeon will have to reduce the size of the left one, so I would be smaller than before. But I know it is what I want. To be able to wear any bra, or to be able to go braless. Summer days with no bra, that has to be something to aim for.
Before that, well I will try to be as body positive as I can. But don’t imagine that this has been easy or that it ever will be again. I loved my boobs and I will have to learn to love having one again.