For the past few weeks I have been tacitly avoiding this blog. The third anniversary of the lift and augmentation that started this whole descent into nightmare took place no October 2nd. And while I LOVE the Twins, I’m so tired of remembering. I’m tired of evaluating my progress. I’m tired of all of it.
And so I resorted to the mental equivalent of sticking my fingers in my ears and yelling, “LALALALALALA!!! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!! LALALALALA!!!” There was also a major spate of shopping therapy. On the up side, I now have a kickass Haunted Mansion collection that will be a great investment for the future. And in the spring, once the seedlings have grown, I’ll have an amazing butterfly and hummingbird garden The down side is that I have completely neglected talking about how grief-stricken I still am. Being able to talk openly and honestly has been such an part of Boobcast and out of mourning and fear of more pain, I have not shared any of this with anyone.
In a way it’s a betrayal of the principles that I have held Boobcast out to be. It’s also been a protective mechanism.
So, here’s what’s new.
My areolae tattoos have faded. A LOT. I am NOT happy with this and I’m considering asking for a refund. I’m guessing that they’ll ask me to get a touch up done before resorting to that. The thing is, except for the defining ring of tattooing, the rest of the pigment is almost completely gone. So I’m not sure how much good a “touch-up” will do when basically the entire thing has to be redone.
The second new thing is that my husband told me that if I can reach my goal weight by the end of August 2011, he would take me to Paris. While this sounds incredibly exciting, I had to turn it down. Losing weight IS healthy. But it also means a reduction in breast size. The fat cells WILL shrink. With everything I have been through, that is the same thing as losing my breasts all over again. I know that doesn’t make sense from a logical standpoint. I just can’t make myself frame it any other way. And so, I’m not going to Paris.
I’ve only had one flashback in the last few months. Once again, the shower triggered a memory of flushing out the open wounds. My husband found me huddled in the corner of the shower, sobbing.
Good news is that someone I think the world of got to “motorboat” the Twins last month. It was the first time in four years. “What IS a “motorboat”, you ask? Thing of it as a zerbit for cleavage. It was so cool. I was standing in the Podcasting Track room in DragonCon when all of a sudden, I feel someone grab my boobs and squish them together. Next thing I know, I was being “motorboated”. There is only ONE PERSON on the planet that does this and I had not seen her in a year. So I squealed like a cheerleader on game day, causing the ENTIRE room to drop what they were doing and look to see who was being killed. It’s times like that I really love my life and my friends.
I have decided that I’m not ready to write the book yet. I still need to get the areolae crap dealt with and healed before I’m finally done. That may require me to wait a while longer. I have read that with regular tattooing, your scars have to be at LEAST a year old. While mine are, I would like to give it a little extra time. Not to mention, my schedule is stacked.
I’m blogging for the The James Randi Educational Foundation now and that takes up a good deal of time. I’m also traveling more these days And I’m part of the Speaker’s Bureau for the JREF, too. Right NOW I get to go plant more seedlings for my butterfly and hummingbird garden. Life keeps me busy. It’s much preferable to the alternative.