How to love your post-mastectomy body (when you really don't)
Yeah, you read that right.
Hello, Dear Reader, and welcome!
June is upon us, so that means summer is just about here as well — where I live anyway. Summer is not my favorite season, but some folks seem to love it and are pretty darn happy it’s almost here. Maybe you’re one of them.
Besides the beginning of summer, June also holds a significant cancer memory for me — my bilateral mastectomy.
I hope you relate to today’s article — whether you’ve had a mastectomy or not. Heck, whether you’re a woman or not. After all, loving your body is sometimes a big ask for many of us, right?
Who doesn’t have, or hasn’t had, a love/hate relationship with her/his body?
No one I know. Men included.
I can’t wait to get your thoughts, so be sure to share them with a comment when you’re done reading.
How to Love Your Post-Mastectomy Body (when you really don’t.)
June 2, 2010 is another one of those dates seared into my memory. Forever. I don’t remember all the cancer-related dates (Lord knows, that’d be too many to remember), but I remember that one. You bet I do.
Personally, I refer to mastectomies as amputations. Important body parts are lopped off. Gone. Taken. And they are not as easily replaced (or forgotten about) as some in Cancer Land and elsewhere would like you to believe. (Read more in EMERGING.)
This year, I was the only one remembering. I’m fine with that. I don’t expect or even want anyone else to recall that horrible date and time. I remember quietly now. I mean, it’s been 14 years, so that’s as it should be. The memory belongs to me. Mostly. My husband remembers too, of course. Not the date, but the experience. Yeah, there’s plenty for him to remember too.
Me, I remember everything.
With remembering comes reflecting, and sometimes that includes writing about it as well. (Thank you for being here!)
I don’t know about you, but I’m weary of hearing stories from women claiming having a mastectomy was a breeze, how much they love their new bodies, and that they never look back.
Am I the only who remembers the woman who danced before her mastectomy?
Seriously?
I don’t understand how anyone can have such a cavalier attitude about something so life-changing.
Having a mastectomy is a big deal.
Why do we sometimes try to downplay or minimize it?
Why would a person even want to?
A fair number of women who’ve had mastectomies choose to post photos of themselves topless post-mastectomy on social media. I love and respect those women for doing that. It’s something that requires a special kind of bravery, resilience, and self-confidence. I envy them and, if truth be told, I hate them a little too. All at the same time.
I wonder if society looks at those women as being stronger, better. That’d make me weaker, less than. Of course, neither one of those things is true.
It’s complicated. But then cancery stuff usually is.
The thing is, I can’t and won’t buy into the positive thinking mantra that requires me to love my post-mastectomy body. I don’t love it. It’s missing parts that were pretty darn special. I miss those parts and always will. Sure, I’ve had reconstruction. Multiple times. Implants. Then DIEP flap.
Am I okay with my reconstruction results? Yes. Do I love the results? No.
Isn’t it enough for me to like (sort of) and accept my carved up, revamped body without having to love it?
I think it is.
I’m pretty sure I never loved my body before my mastectomy — not completely anyway. It’s always had flaws and things I liked about it as well as things I didn’t care much for at all.
So why must I love it now?
I believe in, and can do the self-love thing, but it has to be realistic and reasonable self-love. It has to be doable. After all, honesty and genuineness are at the heart of self-acceptance and self-love, are they not?
As I did before cancer (or tried to), I can like my body. I can lovingly accept it (very different from loving it). I can respect it. I can be grateful for all it still does for me. Which is a lot.
But I don’t have to love it.
Acceptance, respect, and gratitude — these things feel like enough — for me anyway.
What about for you?
Perhaps these things are love — just in different forms.
Commenting on my post encourages others to do the same and helps get conversations rolling.
Mastectomy or not, woman or man, do you love your body?
Do you think having a mastectomy, and other aspects of breast cancer, are minimized these days?
Do you feel women and men struggle equally with body image? Do you struggle with yours?
If you like this post, thank you for clicking the heart button and/or restacking it!
Read more about my experience having a bilateral mastectomy in my memoir. No sugarcoating. Guaranteed.
Have a great rest of your week!
Thank you for being here with me. I’m so grateful for your readership and support. I appreciate you.
As always, I see you. I hear you, and I care about what you have to say.
Until next time…
Nancy
Very timely….my original mastectomy was started w/expander in November 2010 and finished w/implants April 14th, 2011. This year after 14 years of a lot of discomfort and ultimately pain, I had them replaced this April 22nd because one had ruptured. This time, they’re finally comfortable. My new (better, there I’ve said it - there are more options for plastic surgeons who focus on reconstruction in my area 14 years later) plastic surgeon put the implants in front of my muscle. My previous PS put them behind the muscle and they were always very uncomfortable. And these look more natural than my first mastectomy, but as you know, they’re not really me….they’re two fake implants inside my chest. It’s never really over, is it?
Hi Nancy, this is a brave post on such an important topic. Like you, I remember some dates but not others. Too many dates to remember.
Before cancer I did love my body. I loved my breasts. I wasn't vain about it. I just thought they looked nice. When I got hit with breast cancer, I made a choice to keep my breasts and opted for a lumpectomy with radiation instead of a mastectomy. I wanted to hold on to my breasts while I got rid of the cancer. My surgeon was a breast conservationist who helped me make my decision. It was a mistake for me.
After my first lumpectomy, my right breast was deformed and the surgeon didn't get clean margins. So lumpectomy #2 took place, where the cancer was removed, but my breast looked hideous. I hated the way I looked.
Then five years later, I got a scare and I needed lumpectomy #3 to remove the mass, which was luckily scar tissue. The scare pushed me to fight for and get a bilateral mastectomy and DIEP flap.
Yes I remember that woman who danced before her mastectomy. Let me say, I didn't and still don't get it. I never found the amputation of my breasts joyous. In fact, as you know, I've had severe body image issues as a result of all this trauma, which I express with a series of nude paintings.
Now, years after my DIEP, which took place on December 1, 2006, I am more accepting of my body. I no longer love my breasts, but I've come to the point where I accept my body.
Thank you for addressing this important topic. I so appreciate it.