Welcome To The Club

After announcing on social media that I’m going to have my reconstructed mastectomy implants removed to “go flat” some of my small-breasted girlfriends reached out welcoming me to the flat-girl club, or the no-boobies club. You know what I’m talking about – the itty bitty titty committee. I adore all of my “70’s disco titty” friends for reaching out to me, but here is the thing – your idea of being flat and my reality of being flat are completely different versions of flat!

Look, I get it. I know you’re trying to make me feel better and I love you for that. I do not mean to depreciate your support. However, while you have a feminine curve, no matter how small, I’ll be concave. While you have the sexy look of a breast and nipple, I will have a long scar and wrinkled skin. While you can feel sexual arousal, I am numb. While you have clothes that lay over you, showing off your model-size breasts, I’ll be struggling with the idea of letting the fabric of my shirt sink into my chest. While you feel the touch of your lover, I’ll be struggling with showing my body to another.

You will not know the feeling of waking up in the middle of the night to itching that you can’t scratch because it is too far below the skin to satisfy. You will not watch your skin wrinkle and pucker into odd shapes from flexing your pectoral muscles. You will not know the emotional toll of losing body parts that represented your womanhood.

People think that because I had breast reconstruction after my mastectomy that I have the same benefits of natural breasts. I do not. Not even close. What I have are numb, strange looking orbs where my womanhood used to reside.

I get strange looks from some people when I tell them I’m getting the implants removed. They ask if I’m sure of my decision. Hell yeah, I’m sure! I would rather look at scars and a concave chest than these fake interlopers, these incognito beasts, these squatters. Would you rather look at an empty home or come back from vacation to find some stranger living in your house while you were away? Their things strewn about your personal space, raids on your food and dishes, watching TV on your cable bill? The thought of that is invasive, right? That’s how I feel about the reconstruction. I would rather look at the foundation in the mirror every day. Maybe a tattoo? Yes… a tattoo.

My family and friends call me brave. I’m not ashamed to agree. I am brave. I’m a bad ass. Any woman who chooses to remove implants from breast reconstruction or chooses no reconstruction is a bad ass and they have a special club of their own.