When I was contemplating what to say here, nothing felt right. Not even Mr. K’s suggestion of “Hey fuckers, I’ll be out for a week. Carry on.” Okay, so that one felt a little right for obvious reasons, but it lacked an explanation, which I felt was super important.
Just over a year ago, I wrote about my breast implants and the need for their replacement in Blinded By Boobs. I laid my body image issues and the reasons behind them out on the table for all to see. It wasn’t easy for me to acknowledge those feelings. Then again, it never is.
Stop laughing, Heather.
Anyway, my mother has now been here for 16 hours, 5 minutes and 37..38..39 seconds– not that I’m counting or anything. And come 10:30 this morning, my boobs will be in the very capable hands of the most arrogant plastic surgeon I’ve ever met. He will exchange my twenty-something year old saline implants for brand spanking new ones. They will be placed under my chest muscle, my breasts will be reshaped, my areolas will be resized, and my nipples will be repositioned.
I’m told I’ll hate him with the vehemence of Medusa when I wake.
So, I’ll be away for a bit as I recover, but if you happen to me spot me spouting nonsense across social media over the next few days…I am SO sorry.
Hugs,
Nikki
