Healing and Waiting

When I see pictures of myself, I think of my breasts. Was this picture taken back when they were my true originals, untouched by the surgeon's blade? My eyes are telling too. Who was this carefree girl impervious to such destruction? I don't like to be touched across my chest. It reminds me of how… Continue reading Healing and Waiting

Shedding Layers of Me

What is a woman without her breasts? Without her fertility? Without her hair... eyelashes, eyebrows? What is a woman too sick and sore to hold her baby, to cook for her husband? What is a woman who can't drive a car and doesn't feel well enough to contribute at work? Underneath, what will be there… Continue reading Shedding Layers of Me