So it looks as if a second surgery is most definitely in my future.

I had a visit with my plastic surgeon yesterday and now that the girls have settled down, it’s a bit more obvious that a little nip/tuck is going to be required.

I spent most of that first weekend post op crying over these minor imperfections while selfishly spoiling the rest of the world’s good mood. Come Sunday afternoon, I found a lovely little article that tested the theory of hormonal imbalances after any and all photo
surgeries. I don’t believe there was anything specific regarding the exchange of expanders for implants, but I figured I’d go ahead and latch on to the idea anyway. If there’s nothing else to blame my blubbering on then a big basket of crazy is all I’ve got to go with. And we all know how good that is for the dating life. Besides, the last time my hormones were to blame for something like this I distinctly remember getting a free pass to an entire jar of Nutella. But then there’s the whole flailing knife over the cat thing and something to do with dish soap… maybe I’ll just play it safe and stick with the ol’ basket of crazy. In the meantime, this Nutella trap idea may as well go to some good use. Gotta get a date somehow so why not get creative?

My biggest fear going into my appointment yesterday was the doc telling me that the imperfections couldn’t be fixed. That I’d be walking around the rest of my life with one boob lower than the other. Super. Though I was relieved to find out that wasn’t the case, he did bring to my attention that this surgery was very much a cancer patient’s surgery, hence the word “reconstruction”. As simple as everything sounded in the beginning, my plastic surgeon definitely had his work cut out for him and, given the circumstances, he still kicked ass the first go around! Thankfully, Mardi Gras is still a few months away so I still have plenty of time! I certainly wouldn’t want these bad boys ruining my bead gathering strategy. It’s a joke, Dad. Calm down.

At the end of the day, I’ve happily come to terms with the fact that I still have a ways to go in this journey. I’ve also been reminded by my other surgery pals that the entire point of this whole thing was to prevent cancer and not die. Because who in the hell wants either of those??? Not this girl!

I’d like to dedicate this post to my very brave friend, Eryn Powell. She’s 25 years old and had her prophylactic bilateral mastectomy last Friday. Eryn tested positive for the BRCA gene mutation as well and I’ve been extremely blessed to lend a hand in helping her along in this difficult journey. It was hard enough for me to do this at 27, so I commend her decision to go through with this shortly after her 25th birthday! It’s seeing brave young women like her that make me realize I did the right thing by sharing my story. Not only does she kick ass for taking her life into her own hands but she’s witty as hell and is from the Lone Star State! You can find her blog listed in the link below:

Breast wishes –


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