A Brighter Look

I've told you all about my initial look at my new look.

For a few days after coming home, I had pretty much the same reaction each night before the mirror. Maybe it was even worse because it was a full-body picture. And it is grotesque.

Maybe you're thinking, "No, no. Come on, Amy. You're not grotesque." If you are thinking this, I invite you to re-visit the definition of "grotesque."

But as I looked, I would say to myself:

a) This is what the cure for cancer looks like

b) Each day you see this, it will seem a little more normal. And one day, maybe a year from now, you will not mind.

(This is probably the place to note that we could have taken a script from a Hallmark TV special depicting the ideal husband's reaction and it would have looked identical to Bryan's, the only difference being that Bryan actually meant it all.)

Well, it's been all of 2 weeks. And I already don't mind. That's how long it took to get used to. Less than 2 weeks. Life goes on. Maybe re-construction awaits me in the future. Maybe not. It's all good. And it's pretty low on my list of concerns.

So now that I'm over the sensitive, tragic element of the surgery, can I register a complaint?

Let's stop calling this surgery a 'mastectomy.' And, for that matter, let's stop calling the yearly x-rays "mammograms."

Why?

Because we need to stop pretending that breasts are mammary glands. They are not. Breasts are breasts. They are almost completely about appearance. And once in a while, some of them make milk.

I'm no gender historian, but I'd be willing to bet that the one mark of physical difference between the sexes that transcends time, culture and class is breasts. Not hair style and length. Not make-up. Not clothing. Not the swivel or non-swivel of hips. Not the shaving of certain body parts. But breasts. Sure, obviously, there is another physical difference, but that one is not publically apparent.

For a brief window of time in the lives of a lot women--but not all, let's note--breasts feed children. I am thankful that I was able to nurse my two babies. But even then, part of that experience was experiencing my breasts as something other than body parts directly related to appearance. And after a combined total of about 16 months between 2 babies, they stopped being mammary glands and went back to being breasts. 16 months! Out of 34 years? These are not glands, people!!!! These are half of a woman's physical treasure.

That's why everyone notices when a woman has a lot more treasure than most.

Can we just be honest about this? Let's just call it "Breast removal surgery." OK? And let's recommend that women get their yearly "Breast X-Ray." And we'll leave all the mammary gland nonsense to the scientists who need to classify humans as mammals because we nurse our young. The rest of us can classify humans as the creatures who appeal to one another in more vastly sophisticated ways than any other animal, along with one pretty basic way that has a lot to do breasts.