An Open Letter From My Boobs

Dear Susie Lindau,

For thirteen months, we’ve hung out in our new residence behind your pectoral muscles. It has taken us a while to get used to the cramped quarters, but we are adjusting. We understand you are trying to make us feel at home. Although, we totally appreciate the effort, sometimes, you freak us out.

First of all, why do you grab us every time you tell someone about your double boobectomy? The shock alone turns our silicone hearts to ice. One minute we’re chillin’ while you’re yammering on with a friend, an acquaintance, or some random person you just met. Then you snatch us in fists so tight, well, it’s disturbing. We understand you like to talk with your hands, but quit feeling us up.

You are pretty insensitive. We are adopted. We know you miss your old boobs. We will never replace them, but we’re doing our best. Could you at least stop complaining about how weird we feel? You’ve been told the odd feeling will go away. We were there. Remember?

And speaking of being told, we were also in the office when the doctor said you could go braless. The only time you really need to wear one of those constrictive contraptions is when you’re playing tennis, running, or dancing at one of your blog parties. Lighten up! Give us some freedom! So far, we’re nipple-less. We won’t offend anyone.

Wearing a supportive cami at night is ridiculous. Even if we do wander off to the sides of your chest, our pockets are so secure now, nothing will stretch them out while you’re sleeping. We have taken offense to your accusation that we have a weight issue. Your old boobs were probably pretty dinky.

Please stop rolling onto your stomach. You have almost crushed us to the point of exploding. It is stifling and suffocating.

As for the exercises which are so uncomfortable, we have to admit squeezing us together for ten seconds, ten times a day is imperative. We want to keep the muscle walls soft and comfy. They go rigid and we go back into surgery. That would not be fun for any of us.

Would you please stop telling people how we look like balls cut in half? You wouldn’t get the fat transfer to fill in above us, so stop groaning about it. Sure we look fake, but at least we look like boobs. From what you’ve said to others, we’re a lot better than your old boobs anyway, old, being the key word.

You love adventure and we want you to know we’ll go anywhere your wild life takes us. We were super stoked to go skiing last year. We love biking and hiking and hope you’ll continue to seek out new thrills. We are young and ready for anything.

We know you went through hell with cancer. We were so relieved when we heard after one year, you were cancer-free. We’re not sure if you felt it, but we did a happy swirly dance.

Since the feeling is coming back all the way to the scars, we really don’t mind if you touch us once in a while. It is pretty amazing!

If you decide you want nipple tattoos, we talked it over and we’re cool with that. We have tatted up artificial knee and hip cousins. We can take it. We’re badass.

We hope you’ll continue to adopt and adapt to us as strange as we may seem. Come on. You have to admit, you’re quirkier than us. We may seem clingy, but eventually the three of us will be tight. We’ve decided to stick with you and look forward to a very long and adventurous life. Your flat has totally become our pad.

Sincerely,

Your Bionic Boobs

For An Open Letter To My Boobs, click HERE.

For the first Boob Report in the series, click HERE.

Thanks to Courtney Lindau for taking the photo and to Alex and her dog for joining in the fun. Yes. She was a random person on the street who I chatted up about my boobs. Busted!