This guy from the bereavement group seems intent on getting in touch with me to start a new bereavement group. I cant help but think that this guy wants to date me. I suppose Id date him, but I’m very self-conscious about how my boobs look. They’re basically two saline bumps which are ok. I had breast cancer in my left breast, years ago. I was in my livingroom and felt a lump and I asked Don (my husband ) to come over and feel it. He was never comfortable with things like that. He was Catholic and even though he was Irish and made lot s of sex jokes, feeling my breast to check for a lump made him feel very uncomfortable. Anyway, he finally felt it and he agreed I had a lump.
Fast forward to the operation. They took the lump out and sent it to the lab immediately. Suddenly on the loudspeaker which was amplified to the entire hospital for some reason, they confirmed it was cancer. SO she took out the whole breast. Once that was done, a year later the other breast got lumps and bumps and I decided to get that one-off too. It was scary.
So to treat myself I decided I would ask the doctor to put in some big bazungas. But the doctor felt it wouldn’t be proportional with my frame, so sadly I got A’s. No fun.
So today, theres scar tissue across each breast and even though they are small, but they’ve dropped! Some nerve they’ve got. SO I have a flat chest and tony bumps somewhere around my knees. Not that low, I’m just kidding. They rest nicely on my hips.
My roommate took me out bra shopping. The goal was to lift up my boobs. We went to the Bra Smith on Broadway. This is like an old-fashioned bra store where they measure you and actually know what they’re doing. They gave me a few options to try on. They made me look normal. Not huge, but normal. That seemed ok so I bought 3. Then I never wore them because they squeezed me too much and hurt the area where I had the mastectomy.
So now I’m thinking of getting new boobs. Higher, better ones. I often think operations will solve all of my problems. Like Id love to have my eyes done. But Im allergic to painkillers, so that makes me take pause. Morphine seems to work though…so I don’t know.
Anyway, breasts were a thing in my family. Big boobs were what you wanted and I never had them. So here I am with these tiny breasts and I am worried about dating.I don’t know if I want to date. Not just because of my breasts. Theres something about starting all over again with someone. Particularly having sex with them! It’s scary because I don’t think I could handle rejection on any level. I don’t want more depression, I want more fun.
So this guy could really just want to start a bereavement group with me. But I’m hesitant. Trying new things without Don around is very hard. I want to join a gym. I want to take classes. But its hard.
There’s all of this “new” around me. Lots of opportunity is sitting right outside my door and I’m hesitant to take it. At this moment I have no idea if I will do any of these things. But who knows? Maybe tomorrow will be different. I sure never thought I’d write stories like this in a blog.
I know what you’re thinking. Be brave, Judy. Be brave. I’m sitting here thinking I should change the word “bereavement” at the beginning of this story so the guy calling me wont be offended or weirded out. But I don’t think this story is about him calling me. It’s about me trying to do what my mother told me to do as a kid:
” Judy, anything you want to do in life YOU can do!”
Ok, Mom. I’ll try.