Bridesmaid Boobs

Nearly two years ago, my dear friend since the first grade got engaged.  I was thrilled to accept the honor of being a bridesmaid and couldn’t wait to be a part of her special day (I am obsessed with weddings).  This was all before I had any inkling of what would be coming down the pipeline of my life.
Fast forward to this past Saturday when she walked down the aisle evoking a look reminiscent of Grace Kelly.  Her blond hair pulled into a low bun and the sparkles from her accessories and her bridal glow dazzling the guests.  Her maids all in a row, we wore floor-length black gowns that seriously flattered every one of our different body types (a near impossible feat).  When we had tried on our gowns at the bridal store months earlier, I was in between my first and second surgeries.  I had the tissue expanders and wasn’t sure if my measurements with the new implants would fit in the dress.  They did, of course, but I was stressing a little bit about what the décolletage would look like in the v-shaped neckline of the gown.
Would my scars show?  Would the guests see?  Would the rippling where skin drapes over implant show? Will I feel it if my dress moves and my walk down the aisle becomes a Janet Jackson at the Superbowl moment?  Fortunately, none of those things happened and my fears were subdued by many mimosas and margaritas throughout the day.
I had wanted my three major surgeries to be done by the time this wedding came.  I had thought that I would have the fat transfer from my thighs to my breasts already by this point, but scheduling never seems to work as it is intended.  I don’t know if anyone noticed the rippling on my walk down the aisle.  I’m not sure if a scar peeked out from under my seamstress’ best attempt to hide them.  No one said anything, so I’m going to assume I didn’t give anyone a modern medical lesson as I did my solitary strut (read: ran/walk down that extremely long aisle).
Most of the time, my scars are marks of a time when I’ve felt the strongest in my life.  It is an odd way to think about it, I know, but I feel courageous and proactive when I think about my decision to have this preventative double mastectomy.  Of course, I’m a normal person and I have times when I’m self conscious about the scars and the rippling that I hope will go away after the fat transfer.  Now that Summer seems to be in full swing and I’ve been in a bikini in front of many people, I find myself asking my husband to check often to see if the suit has shifted and if I’m exposed.
Yesterday while we were in the pool with the kids, I felt a stiff breeze and automatically looked down to see if my nipples would have popped out as usual.  Of course, there are no nipples to do that anymore and I smiled to myself thinking I never have to be self conscious about that again.  I am really looking forward to the fat transfer surgery so I don’t have to worry about the weird rippling anymore either.  That and no more cellulite showing on my thighs, I’m looking forward to bikini weather forever more.  We might have to move South.

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