Fill'er UP!

Another 60cc's yesterday. I thought I was doing an amazeballs job of manning up - I'm sure the massage chair helped immensely, as my back is a little sore - the good kind. But in the evening, I remembered that hubby had me take some Advil - when it wore off. I had to take more when I woke up this morning. I guess the pressure just means it's all working!  *gasp*

We went yesterday morning to return shoes. I know. Tragic. But sometimes, you order shoes and they're just not right. Like, now I know that my feet are not Fergilicous. Cute styles, but not made well at all. One pair fit about 2 sizes too big. Another pair were cute but just crappy workmanship and materials. And a pair of Nike's that I fell in love with, due to the application of zebra stripe and hot pink, made my feet look FAT. Like both feet were in one shoe. I told the girl at the counter that they DO make me look fat. She agreed, not a good shape. Hubby and I had fun making her early morning fun, sharing some laughs (especially about the men's shoes that we were returning, due to the fact that they looked like something the Creepy Science Teacher would wear. And, upon questioning from my husband, she did confirm that she would not even think of dating anyone who wore those shoes. We had fun. And she gave me her name so I could write to the company and send MAD KUDOS in her direction. I hope she gets a raise. And a jelly donut. Well, I want a jelly donut but really need to watch my waist right now...  so I have to displace my cravings. Carry on..

After the return, I did some shopping. A few Christmas gift fleeces for my girl (she's all about the cuddly fabrics) and a sparkly tank top for me. I bought a size small, and then wondered if I would need a bigger size, when my boobies are done? But I finally tried it on and realized, it's perfect and will stretch if needed. And if not, if I do end up needing bigger if I end up wanting porn star boobs, I'm sure the glittery shirt will not matter anymore.

Met my guy at the surgeon. It was nice to see Dr. Plastic strut in from surgery. A nice, perfectly cut suit. Fantastic shoes. And his assistant had on some killer boots. I get it - working in plastic surgery, even if it's reconstructive and not vanity, means you should care about your presentation. Details. We like for the details to be taken care of, so to see them in their regular wear made us feel good about the care my breast is getting. I don't want some sloppy dude in a cheap suit and Payless shoes building my new breast. I want fine craftsmanship. I want a designer boob.

The possibility is that I may just need one more fill. Surgery date will depend on whether I get the ol' chemo or radiation. I personally vote no, but apparently, the cancer margins are not up to me.

Hit the gym. Did another hour on the bike, this time level 3. Watch out, grandma!!!

First slow cooker dinner this fall - Hungarian Goulash. My mom made it a lot and when I went "Vegetarian", I still ate the veggies and gravy from this dish when I was so anti-flesh. Such a satisfying, warm, comfy meal. My daughter, not big on "mixed foods", loves it too. Something about the paprika, brown sugar, and beef that simply falls apart when touched by a fork. Man, I might have to have some for breakfast today.

Insurance should seriously pay for the rental of massage chairs. It really is making recovery and expansion better. If I had started earlier, it would have really helped to alleviate that awful feeling. My chest is incredibly tight right now, but my back didn't go through the usual spasms and pain - a lifelong issue that was really exasperated by these pesky fills. My back is a little sore from the abuse of the chair, but a good sore.

But it is what it is. I'm grateful to breathe. Some days are harder than others. This day? No matter what, I will go to the gym again. I will granny - pedal toward the goal, to move faster than a granny. To proudly wear my sparkly top. I will practice my instrument - it's hard when I'm not gigging and not allowed to really play, but I know it will help my head, and my muscles. I'm hoping to clean my closets. But that's last on my list right now, though I'd love to take a trip to the Goodwill with a bag of goodies. Every time I do that, I shop and buy one or two things - a good compromise for my closet. I'm learning in my old age to buy only what I love. The thing that worries me about closet cleaning now is that I don't know what size I will be after this ordeal. But this recently-filled breast fits me like a shoulderpad right now - I know it's temporary, but damn, this girl is riding high.

By the way, since the fill, my real one is now once again smaller than the left. Remember, we're making the deceased breast the same size it was, and are going to expand righty. But I had to laugh - here I am again padding the right side to match. Luckily the stretchy bra is easy to manipulate in this way. I can't wait for the day when I don't have to pad. The day that I have a matching set. Who knew I'd have to get cancer in order to fulfill my symmetry dreams. Then again, I'm thrilled that I never got elective surgery to fix this - I'd be really pissed now that I spent the money and recovery time just to do it all again!