In two days time it will be one year since my initial mastectomy/reconstruction surgery. What a year. And the adventure continues. A visit to the plastic surgeon is on the calendar in a few days to check the new nips and give me (hopefully) the go-ahead to schedule tattooing. Not everyone chooses nipple reconstruction or the tattoos that make the nips look flesh colored. I cannot say I am looking forward to the needle treatment but being really, truly all done will be marvelous.
In the mean time, it is tax season and around here that coincides with retirement planning. It is very nice to worry more about 401k stuff than boobs.
Good bras cost a bloody fortune. Proper fit is a lifelong problem for most women, from training bras to nursing bras to grandma bras. In the midst of this year of endless surgeries and an ever-changing personal landscape I have given up on bras for the moment. A few inexpensive wire-free boring things have done their job over the last few months. After my next round of surgery I expect to be stuck in compression garments for a while. Oh joy. While I’m squashed like a sausage into some petroleum-based fabric during the summer months I’m not even going to think about the B word. I will distract myself instead with something girly that I can enjoy. Panties.
Even the nicest pair of panties cost a fraction of a good bra. They come in every style, color and fabric. A massive hip-to-hip belly scar like mine can disappear under the right cut. An added bonus.
My latest panty acquisition is one of my favorite. It has nothing to do with lace, bows or the fact they came in a brown box in the mail from Nordstrom. They are my new treasure because my charming man bought them for me.
Fancy pants. Ooh la la.
Am I lucky girl or what?