Goodbye, Girls



I was in 4th grade the year I got my first training bra.

I scarcely had anything to fill it, but all my friends were getting them, and when you’re on the verge of becoming a teenager (I believe it’s called  a “tween” nowadays) and your friends are doing something, you just have to do it, too.

So, one Saturday my mom took me to Sears (lingerie and lawnmowers–talk about your one-stop shop!) to pick out a training bra. I perused the rack of simple white numbers, settling on one with a dainty blue flower applique on the front.

That Monday I wore my new bra to school. No one knew I was wearing it–save my girlfriends to whom I excitedly flashed the straps on my shoulders to prove I finally had it–but I knew it was there, and it made me feel so grown-up.

Tomorrow I’m bidding adieu to my “girls,” or at least, to them in their natural state. I am nervous. I am sad. I am angry.

I’ve never been the type of gal to be all wrapped up in her ladies, so to speak. They don’t define my identity as a woman, or how I feel about my appearance. But they are a part of me. They fill out my clothes (and I am way into clothes). They nourished my child. And they also tried to kill me.

So they must go.

I started crying in the car tonight on the way home after dropping my son at his grandparents’ house, where he’ll stay this week while I recover. Through my tears, I told my husband how much this all sucks. Yes, I am very lucky in so many respects. It could all be so much worse. But, still–it fucking sucks. I cannot believe sometimes that this is my life. This is really happening. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and this will all have just been a really terrible, vivid dream. It just can’t be real.

I’m sure it will feel very real tomorrow. People who’ve been through this surgery assure me it’s not as bad as you’d expect, and that it’s easier than chemo. I can’t imagine how that could be possible. I mean, chemo sucks pretty hard, too, but there aren’t drains (ugh), and I could still hold my son even when I felt like garbage.

But for now, I’m saying goodbye. I’ll miss the girls as they once were, but I’m hoping they’ll cause me less trouble from here on out.

19 thoughts on “Goodbye, Girls

  1. Oh my gosh, I can’t even imagine! Your words are so well written, I felt your emotions!
    I hope everything goes well and recovery goes better than expected!
    Cancer sucks!! You go girl, you have this! I’ll keep you in my thoughts! Kick the shit out of that crap!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. May your surgery go smoothly, and your recovery be speedy. I wish you well also, as you negotiate through all the emotions that accompany mastectomy in the weeks ahead. But mostly I wish you could be spared losing your breasts.
    I will light candles for you to tomorrow.
    Xo Iris

    Liked by 1 person

  3. You’re a very brave woman. I too, told the oncologist, no, I don’t believe having a complete hysterectomy will make me feel any less of a woman. And then when I have the constant fear of breast cancer, I thought well, what’s left? But I am grateful for not going through what you are. I wish you all the good thoughts available. Good luck!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Good luck, sweetheart. This will all be over before you know it. I know this sucks and can’t be easy…..but the silver lining is, you’ll soon have perkier boobs than all of us! Mwah. xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

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