The Killing of a Baywatch Babe

I have another surgery coming up this week and I’m already dreading it. The other two were necessary; this one I volunteered for even though it scares the hell out of me. Why?

Well, you see, I went into this whole reconstructive surgery/silicone implants thing with my head in the clouds. When reconstruction was done, I was going to be big and bouncy like a Baywatch babe. Yes, indeedy! I mean, what’s the point of going through breast cancer if you can’t get to the silver lining of having the breasts of a 25-year-old stunner??

And I deserved that. Every breast cancer patient deserves that! We put up with all of this life-saving stuff so we can live. And for some of us, that means having a body to be proud of…and for some of us that means Baywatch babe breasts! (Vain much? Lol)

I had such high hopes. Higher even than the breasts I envisioned. But after reconstruction number one it was plain to see that my chest is not winning any gold medals, or orange bathing suits. One breast looks like a damn football, running across my chest and out into my underarm, and while that might actually be exciting to some men it makes me cringe every time I have to literally move my breast back to center so I can maneuver my arm freely.

And the other one – don’t even get me started! That poor breast is just a mess – lumpy, unnippled and, oddly enough, able to fold itself in half when I flex my pecs. There is a huge cavity where a sexy cleavage should be. You’ve heard of cave men, right? Well, call me Concave Woman!

Concave Woman has decided enough is enough, I want my damn silver lining. I picked a new plastic surgeon and gave him my best Baywatch Babe speech. And damned if he didn’t kill her right on the spot. Shot her at close range right in the chest.

It turns out, there’s only so much they can do. He was incredibly honest with me; setting expectations where they should be (probably where they should have been at the start).

The surgeon made it clear that having had cancer entitles me to as many reconstruction revisions as I’d like, but the more you do, the less natural tissue they have to work with and after a couple of surgeries it will only get worse instead of being an improvement. Sort of like watching Courtney and Meg with their facial plastic surgeries. Yikes!

So this is it. One more and then I live with the outcome and move on. The surgeon is able to fix the things I can’t live with, but I will never be starring next to David Hasselhoff in the remake. Unless they’re casting a deformed sea witch, then I’m a shoo-in!