My Shout-Out to Silicone

Today, one month after surgery, I went to the hole-in-the-wall called My Secret, which is something like a back room Victoria's Secret, as if it were a hidden part of the store too embarassing to show the world. They only see you by appointment, and you're brought into a tiny room with a small table and mirror and asked to undress -- in some ways it felt like I was about to get an abortion in the bad old days. But Marisol, my fitter, was professional and warm, and I left an hour later with a custom-fit silicone breast form (thankfully, she did not use that horrible word prosthesis) that matches the other side.

I am still in a major funk, but the difference between the real thing (meaning the synthetic thing) and the foam stuff I've been using is remarkable. Who invented silicone, anyway? It's probably harmful to the environment and bad in all sorts of ways, but let me tell you, the stuff does have a soft, jelly-like, breast-fatty feel and look to it. When it was in the new bra (in a pocket that prevents it from slipping around), I couldn't tell the difference in the mirror while wearing my shirt. And yes, I like, like, like that. Plus the familiar weight was there again, re-balancing me. I know it's fake, false, a "falsie" (another horrible word, in a different way), yet my mind succumbed to the trick and said, "Oh, it's back, great."

On the other hand, and you know I don't pull my punches here, it looks way weirder than the little foam numbers do when it's sitting on the table rather than inside the bra. In fact it resembles nothing so much as a jellyfish that's somehow assumed a triangular shape. This is going to take getting used to, so that has to be added to the list of what I now have to incorporate into my life. I'm not happy about that. And I absolutely can't imagine that a man who saw it in all its silicone-ness would not be turned way off. The less said about that the better.

But when I walked out of there wearing my new silicone wonder, I actually felt normal, not just looked (I think) normal. At times like these, normal is good. Normal is the best I can aspire to. So I'll take it, gladly. Gratefully. Thank you, silicone.