1999, Berkeley CA
I emerged from the pool, carefully avoiding putting weight on my right foot. For almost an hour, I walked, sprinted, kicked and swam without any pain. But once back on land, my foot reminded me why I was at the pool instead of the dance studio: I was injured and couldn't dance. So instead of leaping and spinning with all my 20-something friends in leotards, I was at a dank pool, surrounded by gray haired retirees bobbing around in skirted bathing suits.
Waddling to the locker room, I clumsily avoided the many lose, crumbling tiles and sighed with relief when I saw that the large shower room was empty. Alone, I stripped off my suit and put my face directly in the water to drown out my self-pitying thoughts.
After minutes of wasteful, blissful water use, I came back to reality with the sound of many voices entering the locker room. A class was evidently about to begin. These ladies began stepping into the shower room, as I tried to hurry through the washing portion of my shower - I was a little shy about showering naked in front of strangers. When I finally turned off my shower and turned around, I was stunned by what I saw.
The women who stood before me were all scarred. Some had no brea$ts, some had one. My eyes darted quickly around in shock and then dropped to the floor as I began to leave. A woman near the doorway grabbed my arm as I passed.
"It's okay, sweetheart," she said kindly. "We know we're a scary sight. Appreciate your brea$ts while you have them. While they're so beautiful."
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2014, Northern VA
For most of my life, I've been disappointed by my b00bs.
(I started to type the word "hate" but since I vehemently protest whenever my girls use that dull, blunt word to describe something as benign as mashed potatoes, I think I should be a little more precise in my word choice.)
(and, yes, I know, who in their right mind HATES mashed potatoes?!)
I spent my teenage years seething at my b00bs' incredibly late arrival. When they did decide to make an appearance, it was an easy entrance to miss. I was frustrated by their size (A cup, on a good day, with the wind at my back) and shape (ski slope flat on top, droopy underneath.)
I was convinced that b00bs were a vital currency for a teenage girl and, as such, I was nearly broke.
But my b00bs have really come into their own. First they miraculously fed both my daughters, a gift that ranks among my life's highlights.
And now, they have once again pulled through.
My biopsy results were normal.
Dear b00bs, I'm sorry I haven't appreciated you enough. I'm sorry I ever doubted you. Thanks for sticking by me, and sticking around.
