Breasts to the left of me. Breasts to the right of me. And yet it was a breast fetishist’s nightmare: they were all fake.
Yesterday afternoon I made a trek out to a little boutique in Los Altos to pick up a couple of post-surgical garments. Essentially soft white camisoles, these utilitarian little tops hold fiber-filled pouches in strategic locations to cosmetically mimic the recently removed breast(s). They also have special interior pockets to hold surgical drains. After I’d been fitted for my camisoles, the proprietress introduced her vast selection of breast prosthetics and accommodating garments so that I will be able to make informed choices in 4-6 weeks when it’s time to select my foob (fake boob) trousseau.
According to my plastic surgeon, many patients going through mastectomy do not elect to undergo further surgery for implants or autologous tissue transplant (like my planned tummy tuck). These women either stay flat or they use a foob, a squishy silicone filled pouch that approximates the weight of the lost breast and restores symmetry. It’s like an implant that you wear on the outside.
My insurance pays for 1 foob every two years (though hopefully I will have had my reconstruction surgery long before then) along with an annual allowance of 3 foob bras. Foob bras look like normal bras except that they have two recesses to cradle your foob(s) of choice.
I saw petite foobs (my size), massive foobs, swimming foobs, swimsuits to put the swimming foobs into, lymphedema foobs, diving foobs, foobs with wings (to fill in more extensive excisions), tall foobs, flat foobs, wide foobs, exercise foobs, foobs that can park your car (joke), firm foobs, floppy foobs, clear foobs, flesh-colored foobs, filler foobs (for partial mastectomies), ventilating foobs, foobs with nipples, foobs without, foobs in the daytime, foobs in the nighttime, foobs for suppertime … oh, sorry, scratch the last three.
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