My Breast Implants, Parenting and Me on RoleReboot


After your surgery, you shuffle along a hardwood floor at an angle, pulled down by your tightened skin. Pain sleeps under the influence of Hydrocodone and Valium. You move into a shaft of sunlight. The forest of your mind clears. You straighten as much as you can, feeling the heaviness of your breast implants pressing right where the weight should be. Your legs tremble but you remain upright, joyful tears traveling down your neck into your reestablished cleavage. When your mother asks why you are crying, you tell her, “My breasts.”

“Do they hurt?”

You choke on a sob, shake your head no. “The weight of them,” you say. “I missed it so much.”

She nods and holds you as you cry.

You know you would go through it all again just for that feeling.

Read the full story on RoleReboot.


5 Discussion to this post

  1. Hugs, this hurt me. I’m so sorry.

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  2. Elissaveta says:

    This so sad. But in a strange, therapeutic way, I’m glad you are writing about it.

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