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Sorta Satisfied

Two pink macrons remind me of my BRCA bilateral mastectomy

While it still feels like March because I have yet to see anything go out like a lamb, I am surprised by one thing in my life: the lack of wanting. Hearing friends talk of online shopping and retail therapy, it almost sounds as if they’re speaking another language. Why does this surprise me?

Well, I love shopping, especially buying clothes. Designer-esque clothes–used, of course; the kind you find at consignment stores. Right now, you’d think that it would be a fashionista’s paradise with lots of time and low prices online. But, I have no desire. My idea of splurging right now consists of ordering the highly coveted bread yeast, so that my girls can bake, as well as shea butter so that I can make another batch of lucious moisturizer. Seriously, that’s about as homemade as I get.

Other than those, it’s all about necessities like food. In fact, with so much extra time spent in my house, I can see how much we don’t actually use, how much we do not need. So, I’m satisfied. Or so I thought…

The thoughts that arose with the steamy air in the shower the other day were alarmingly matter-of fact: I’m going to have another fat grafting surgery. This summer.…What?! But I had decided after the challenging second reconstructive follow-up surgery that I was absolutely done; as in, it almost wasn’t even worth the results to go through all of that hassle and discomfort.

There was more. While I’m at it, I might as well see if they can maybe lift my breasts a bit. But I didn’t stop there. Perhaps they can fix some of the scars–where they’re red and lumpy. What about electrolysis for those unwelcome hairs? And maybe they have an easy procedure to lessen all of the cellulite on my legs? And what about some laser treatment to make me look less Irish than my ruddy nose already displays? A few more similar thoughts fleeted.

The most brilliant part, I thought, was that I wasn’t going to travel all the way out to Boston again, rather a 5-minute drive down the road; where a Plastic Surgeon runs his practice along with spa services. The self assuredness over setting up Reconstruction surgery #3 felt somewhat new to me. Historically, I made decisions with so much deliberation, seasons could change in the meantime.

Moreover, I once plastic surgery as unnecessary unless you were born with a defect or experienced an accident or fire. That is, until my own prophylactic bilateral mastectomy surgery on May 4, 2015. Sure, I fantasized about smoother skin, a smaller nose and so much more, yet never envisioned surgically doing something about any of my perceived flaws.

The good news is, only emergency procedures are happening right now, offering me plenty of time. Time to settle back down into my nearly 50 year old body and accept every mark, proving my journey through life. While I have yet to place a call, I am convinced that the eve prior to the 5 year anniversary since my original bilateral mastectomy surgery, may have something to do with it. What I now know is that Plastic Surgery isn’t plastic at all…it can be priceless!

And then I am reminded of a small poem in Rupi Kaur’s book, “The Sun and Her Flowers”:

i made change after change
on the road to perfection
but when i finally felt beautiful enough
their definition of beauty
suddenly changed

what if there is no finish line
and in an attempt to keep up
i lose the gifts i was born with
for a beauty so insecure
it can’t commit to itself

-the lies they sell

Do you dream of other reconstructive procedures (a.k.a. Plastic Surgery)?