I have a nipple. It’s new. I got it on Thursday.
I know that some of you will work out who I am but I really don’t care. This needs to come out and I am not sure where it would go so; I am inflicting my musings on you here.
I have not really thought about my nipples a lot and, even though delighted at the thought of reconstruction, it never really entered my pretty little head how much of an impact this would have on me. I have seen the surgeons rob me of my breast because they needed to save my life. Watching the slow, often painful, sometimes humiliating reshaping of my new breast, moulding it out of my own flesh, has been interesting. Mostly due to the shift in my psyche, my attitude and, most importantly, my confidence has been interesting and delightful. I have re-emerged a ‘whole’ woman.
I thought that nipple reconstruction (they will tattoo the areola on in 6 months time) would just be the cherry on top…quite literally. I did not expect such an overwhelming reaction to it. As I look down and see both nipples (actually I see one and a WHOLE lot of protective padding around the other), the landscape has changed, my landscape has changed. I am overwhelmed with feelings, I am awash with joy, and amazement, and curiosity, and worry, and fear, and a sense of completion. This is really something for just a little flap of skin that has been cut and folded round to form a lump.
There are a whole mass of ‘experts’ out there telling us how to ‘get in touch’ with our bodies, to connect with them in some way. I guess I am connecting to my new nipple. Getting to know this new addition to my body. I like this new thing, this new addition, this cherry on the top of my cake.