movies

a friend of mine suggested, in honor of my soon-to-be new rack, that i watch movies that celebrate the buxom woman. for example, anything starring dolly parton.

more suggestions? (and, uh, keep it clean. i'm going to be watching these movies with my mom during my recovery.)

my cute brother

remember when patrick shaved his head when i had to? well, a year and a half later he still comes through.

i got an envelope in the mail on my birthday from the kabuki spa in san francisco. with a gift certificate for an incredible massage. a birthday present from my brother. i was so excited about it that the happiness the IDEA of it gave me was almost enough.

so i made an appointment for this past friday. with brian. a shiatsu masseuse who'd recently been to some orthopedic training so they thought he'd be a good match for me and my boob-related issues.

he was soooooooo good. and so interesting.
he did the whole massage while i was lying on my side - because i can't lie on my stomach without feeling very uncomfortable. he kneaded the hell out of my shoulders and neck and back. and he told me a few interesting things. that, surprise surprise, i'm super tight. that my right (my surgery side) is way tighter than my left. that i am so tight that he's surprised my nerves haven't been affected - which would've been eveidenced by my feeling some numbeness or tingling in my arm. that, despite all this, my joints, muscles, and tissue all seem to be in good form - which he would call a strong chi. which i liked to hear.

and now i just wish i could go back every week.
i DO have the chance to apply for that grant funding again...maybe i could ask for a new car and weekly massages. ah, that would be the life.

new boobs just 17 days away

turns out anxiety dreams about surgery can start as early as 19 days before surgery. uggggggggggg. it kills me that i talk with my kids about meditating anxiety away, just imagine colors, just breathe and count. guess what, meghan? that DOESN'T.WORK.

wow

i guess people's opinions didn't change since the last b/c poll. :)

who knew?

dancing at weddings is painful 4 days post-pump-up. worth it. but who knew?

owwwwwwwwww

first of all, i thought vicodin caused drowsiness NOT insomnia. i'm lying in bed. my boob is killing me. and vicodin, true to our past history together, has done nothing for me.

i got pumped up this morning. and there's so much to say, i'm hoping through writing things will get a little clearer for me.

so today cely (the nurse) was wearing flourescent green pants and a scrub top with zebra print and flourescent green trim. she's about 4'10" at most. and her daughter bought this outfit for her in a size medium. cely was disappointed but knew her daughter meant well. cely also told me that she's most likely going to retire in november of this year. kaiser is asking people to retire and she's been there for 35 years. she's a nurse. her husband was a doctor. two of her daughters are nurses. and one daughter and one son are doctors.

anyway. she was so cute. she said she would miss me if she retired.

so then dr. simonds came in. as usual looking like he's about to crack up at something funny going on in his head. i asked him all these questions about recovery after surgery, cup size advice, saline vs. silicone. he answered 1) same as the february surgery with most of the pain in my left boob, 2) he suggests a C - longer story to follow, and 3) silicone; there is no evidence that silicone implants cause problems.

so we talked long and hard about the size issue. i told him that i was starting to get a little greedy...that maybe a B isn't all that exciting. that maybe i wanted a small C. he thought and thought and looked and looked. and then said that we could do two things. 1) we could do the surgery as scheduled, july 10th. the cup size would be a large B. or 2) we could postpone the surgery (uggggggggg), do another pump up in july, wait the preferred 2 months for the skin and muscle to fully stretch, and THEN have the surgery in september/october. he looked at me dead seriously, the man who never seems to really give his advice or opinion, and said, "you would have GREAT.(pause for emphasis).boobs."

hi-larious. hilarious. my surgeon says he could make me great boobs.

so now i'm stuck with a decision to make. what is more important? what would give me the longer term satisfaction? which do you like bettah?

do i go for the gold, strive for greatness, go big or go home? do i get my life back on track, as expected, in july vs. october? do i really care about the difference between a B and a C? i've gone this far, gone through so much, why not achieve some reconstructive surgeon's version of perfection? will i have men staring first at my chest and never at my face? will i feel disappointed i didn't go one step further?

so.much.to.think.about.

and all of this while my boob is KILLLLLLING me. it's stinging with all the nerve endings that have grown back. VERY stretched. hurts to turn in the car to back up. hurts when kitty pulls on the leash. hurts to get out of bed (aGAIN). my body won't LET me sneeze cause it knows it'll hurt too much - i get to the first part of the sneezing, the inhale...and my body shuts it down. i literally just keep whimpering to myself...whining, whimpering, pouting.

another mary oliver...

this one was sent to me by my friend vaidya.
again, calming. again, inspiring.

The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

i've never been one to say i love poetry

but a friend (going through A LOT) recently sent this to me and i'm in love.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

from Dream Work by Mary Oliver