Replacing, Refilling, Ending, Not Ending

I had intended to end this blog on Jan. 16, the anniversary of my semi-diagnosis, but I find I have more to say. For instance, about implants. The New York Times reported on Thursday about problems with breast implants. First of all, they don't last. Second of all, they can leak and spill and scar. All good reasons not to have an implant, L said, reading over my shoulder. But you notice women's breasts, I said. I didn't marry you for your breasts, he said. I sound like I'm arguing in favor of implants. I kept thinking I would have an implant after I get down to my ideal weight, because if you get an implant and lose weight, the breast stays the same size. But the more and more I live with one breast, the more natural it seems. And the more I hear about how you always feel the implant floating inside you, the less inclined I am to get the surgery.

There's no news peg to the Times piece, except an anti-implant documentary that came out in 2007. It had a NYC press screening in November, and will be shown in Boston at the end of this month. How very odd that it was already shown in Dallas and Buffalo and has a screening in Albuquerque, but there are no plans for it to be shown here. Something to look into. You can read an op-ed that came out before the film here.

I have to admit that I've been feeling lazy for not getting an implant. Or reconstruction, as it's called. Maybe feeling lazy and slatternly for going around braless and one-breastless. O gosh, lost a breast and didn't even sew one back on. As if it were a button fallen off a coat.