It's funny. Every morning I wake up, shower, put on makeup (all natural - I don't need to re-cancer myself, thank you!) and dress. I look like me. I act like me. But I have this horrendous muppet zombie bionic monster breast-like form attached to my body. Nobody knows, unless they know. But I know, and there's not a second during the day that I forget about it, because it never lets me forget.
I was researching a little bit last night, and read a good tip on protecting myself. Carry a clutch purse! On the cancer side! That way, you are protecting your falsified body part while not looking awkward. Ok, I find clutch purses to be awkward regardless, but it makes sense. I'm not sure I'll do it, I've been thrilled carrying a light backpack. I bought it well before the surgery. It's a Coach that I got from the eBay factory store. It was a bargain (for Coach), and I figured that I'd be looking crazy, awkward, feeling like poop, so why not have a flashy little backpack to distract the eye from my owchy place? Of course, it's cold out so I always have a coat or jacket on, and who the hell is really looking at my boobs? They're not ginormous. And in my post-surgery bras, they look smaller than they used to. BUT, I ordered a bunch of little sports bras figuring my girl would like them too - and the best without any padding that I can step into are these Fruit of the Loom Sports Bras . I also bought some racer backs... NOT a good idea! I can't step into them. And I've been working hard at putting shirts on over my head, it's difficult but I can with some. A racerback will not work that way. So my daughter happily claimed those for herself. I also grabbed one to wear out - this padded plungey thing. I have to say, I like it! But I haven't worn it yet. Why? I'm not sure. But it is super comfy. Who knows what size I'll be when this is all done - maybe I'll go for the gold and get a D cup. D for doubtful. Maybe I'll never wear it. But I will most likely buy it in whatever size I end up - definitely a comfy, comfy bra compared to what I've worn in the past. Why do we torture ourselves in undergarments???
Another thing I found that made me chuckle is Rub On Nipples!!!??? Since I have a big gash over my breast, I can't do it now. But there will possibly be a time that I will need these. Need? I don't know. Want? Perhaps. I think about not making a new nipple, but then I realize how odd I'll feel. When I'm back in the world of performance, how self conscious will I feel backstage, getting dressed with the other girls? I guess that's a decision I can make before I hit the operating table again. I've thought about not getting a realistic tattoo. I've thought about getting some sort of badge of honor - something that says that I went through all this shit and all I got was this lousy fake boob. But, probably not.
It's rainy. I'm on the couch with my fuzzy cuddly cat, who is sleeping blissfully. How nice it would be, to be able to just curl up and not worry about things, except when your next meal time is.
Time to do some stretches. And try to practice a bit. I've not been motivated, even though a couple of days ago, it brought a spark back to my heart. It's also depressing. I know, dumb.
I also need to figure out a way to get back in shape. I know I don't look different, but I sure feel it. At the beginning of the summer I was 8 or 9 pounds lighter. I know that doesn't sound like a lot, and just a year or so ago I was 5 pounds heavier than I am today, but I feel it. I feel less like me right now. It's hard when you're so restricted. I know once I get the green light I'll be cool - but I'm also a bit impatient. I can't jump around, I can't sweat much, I can't do much with my pecs at all, and really am not allowed to lift real weights. It's depressing. And all I want to eat is comfort food. Yesterday, my daughter and I had a great day. But at breakfast, we made french toast (with Ezekiel Bread, organic eggs and organic syrup). We went for a long walk, and at lunch she begged me to stop at a brick oven pizza place she loves. I had half a slice, but my body hates wheat and dairy. It was so good. Dinner, we decided to go to a diner we hadn't been to in years, even though it's a few blocks away. I'd been craving corned beef hash and an egg for the longest time, so I got it. A cookie or two later on.
And the worst part? I was hungry at night! I brushed my teeth and got into bed and read a book. Enough was enough.
This morning, I've enjoyed a cup of espresso and nothing else. I don't feel hungry, but I understand that I should eat something to start my metabolism up soon. I am thinking I'll be ok until lunch. We made rice last night with leftover cornish hen and asparagus with a hint of soy sauce. Sounds odd, but my mom did that kind of thing a lot. Comfort food, but not like a pot pie or a big pot of mashed potatoes with pounds of butter... mmmmm.... mashed potatoes. Shhhhh!!!
I can do this. I am trying to think of exercises I can enjoy that won't ruin my surgery. As long as I can breathe, as long as I don't feel my pec screaming (except during specific stretches) and I'm not sweating, I should be ok. Which leaves me with... um... well... this sucks.
Off to conquer the day. I'm alive. Maybe a little more espresso will remind me to smile!
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