Ok Kids, So What's Weird About That One?

For those of you keeping tabs on the reconstruction process, my left girl, now 60 ml. more full of saline since my most recent expansion on Wednesday, is now precariously and fully stretched to the max, making it feel and look massive (I know, I know, you chuckle...this coming from a woman whose only brush with mega-boobs was during six years of nursing babies and toddlers). Not only is she massive, but she is hard, dangerous even. Whereas last week my new girl was filling out the lovely new shaped B-cup bra with panache, this week she is being positively overbearing and rude about it, pushing the soft cloth and seams to their limits with an overstuffed appearance that renders her strikingly unattractive. And I have cleavage now, cleavage!, for the first time, of course, only on that left side, but it's there, lurking behind my fitted shirts like some bad girl waiting to bust out and bloom. Watch out! I do declare my left girl has become way too brazen and bold since her latest expansion, and my right girl cowers in her shadow, like some timid fawn. The sad truth is that however tawdry she now looks to me, that with all the pathetic internet-porn night crawling about, there are probably some out there who wold find my left girl quite attractive. But to me, she looks shamefully artificial, a real phony, grotesquely emblazoned and overstuffed with size and perk.


She's so bizarre looking that she has taken on the strange esoteric feeling of a contemporary art installation, and begs the question that I'll put to my kids whenever we go to MassMoCA to check out all the cool, new art—ok, kids, so what's weird about that one? There'd be lots to say. At this point, aside from being a real work in progress, she feels and looks creepy bad, and I can't help but think of the movie Alien, and of the sprightly alien creatures temporarily taking up residence within, only to burst through muscle and skin, screech, and drip nasty looking stuff from their corrosive sneers. I doubt she has the same malicious intent, but clearly, there is something not of this world about her, and something not of me, too, despite the fact that we share skin (though the skin has lost all its feeling, and therefore connection, to me). I will not miss this girl when I trade her in on June 17th. I will bid this expander adieu and welcome a more comfortable implant that will, hopefully, feel and look a lot more like my other girl.


This was to be my final over-expansion. The technician Christina hinted that when Dr. Pitts sees me for my pre-op appointment in a couple of weeks, she may want to expand me further. You have got to be kidding!! She laughed, too. I think I'm done. If I am over-expanded anymore, I will set up my freak sideshow along the roadside somewhere and start making some money off of this ridiculousness. At this point, I suppose I could say that I am (o) +O; that'd be lopsided, small real on the right, big fake on the left, android in appearance. No tassles. Yet.