Friday, October 8, 2010

Grand Marnier

I am two weeks out, this is my second Friday with no chemo.  No labs yesterday.  No chemo crack today.  Just me.  In a pool this morning.  Trying to keep up with the old ladies in my water aerobics class.

Oh these achy bones and muscles.  Oh these feet.  But I was there.  I was there.

I think I need to skip the jacuzzi after class, even though it's where all the old ladies congregate.  After a few minutes in that hot hot water, I'm like a damn egg noodle with no beef stroganoff.  What good is a noodle if ya got nothing to put on it.  You just have a wet noodle.

I hate to miss all the good chatter though, listening to the old ladies talk when there are no men around.  They are cute and saucy and funny.  Today they were talking about food and recipes, and one of them was telling us about this drunken chicken recipe you bake with a big pour of Grand Marnier.

Evidently, if towards the end of the cooking time your oven door does not blast open, you didn't do it right.

They are sweet to me.  Ask me how I'm doing.  Several of them are breast cancer survivors, going way way back in the day.  They are all absolutely shocked that I received chemo, FOR SO LONG, and what's more, BEFORE ANY SURGERY.  One thing I notice?  Many of these ladies did not opt for reconstruction.

I've read different statistics that only about 30% of women after a mastectomy opt for reconstruction.  Race, age and geography all play a part.  Older women tend not to choose reconstruction.  African American women receive significantly less reconstruction than Caucasian women.

From the medical journal Plastic and Reconstructive Surgery, a study published there reported:

"African Americans generally receive less medical care, receive less aggressive treatment interventions and are diagnosed at later stages of disease."

From the same study, although Asian women receive the same levels of medical care as Caucasian women, significant numbers of them do not opt for reconstruction.  The study could not account for this gap, but speculates it is due to a cultural difference in how a woman's breasts are viewed.

This is fascinating to me.

I really wanted my new "foobs" when I woke from my primary surgery.  It's taking a lot of positive thinking, and pep talks to self, to wrap my head around not having boobs for several months.  Never been there, well, not since about 4th grade.

I never realized how much my feeling sexy or viewing myself as sexy has been in partnership with having boobs and hair.  I don't know about you Ladies, but my va-jay-jay is fairly low on the list of what makes me feel sexy.

It is boobs and hair and lips and eyes and painted toe nails.

If they had said to me to treat your breast cancer, you can keep your hair and boobs, but we will need to close down your va-jay-jay for business, I would have taken the deal.  [Don't be ridiculous, I am not speaking about the orchid, just the vase.  Trying to keep this blog PG!]

I never thought about all this before.  I never had to.

As I type, sitting here on my bed with my net book, I have a tank top on and when I look down, all I see is boobs and cleavage.  Hello girls.  It's going to be awful strange to look down and actually be able to see my lap.

I never thought two appendages with sucking apparatus were so important to me, making me feel like a girly girl.

I suppose that is cultural.  Being voluptuous has been a blessing and a curse.

I admit, mostly a blessing.

Is the converse true, being small busted is a curse?  That seems ridiculous, yet EVERYONE is getting augmentations these days.

Have I been boob profiling all these years and not even realized it?

Think about it.  What assumptions have you made about big breasted women?  Here's one.  If we wear clothing featuring our abundance, do you think it's trashy?  What assumptions have you made about small breasted women?  When they wear something revealing, is that sporty?

I am about to go undercover, and live as I have never lived before.

I have no idea what I'm going to find out.

I could use the analogy regarding hair too.  Recently I've been going out without scarf or wig.  I thought people would be staring at me or even gawking.  Nope.

I used to get quite a few stares with my big blond hair.

Maybe they were staring at my boobs.  See what I mean?

You ever seen a woman with absolutely no boobs but she is so damn sexy?  I've noticed most of them have a set of gams like a racehorse or Betty Grable.

No hair.  No gams.  Soon to be No Boobs.

Give me a swig a that Grand Marnier.


No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...