I had my right nipple tattooed last night. As you do. Or breast re pigmentation to use the correct term. Headed up to Harley Street after work and met the lovely Karen Betts who, in about fifteen minutes flat, managed to make my boobs look like..well, a little bit more like my boobs again.
I got a bit emotional as I watched her working in the mirror and saw the colour appear before my eyes. I’ve got so used to having two very different looking boobs. One soft and squishy, one hard and high. One nipple with colour and one without. Oh, the joys of being mismatched and aysmettrical.
They’re still wonky. The surgery I had six months ago didn’t quite do the job of levelling them out and so in the new year I’ll go back in to hospital for what I hope and pray is the final time. I’m aware of how lucky I am to have an amazing surgeon who also happens to be a total perfectionist – refusing to stop until he’s sure that he’s done as much as he can to restore my confidence and bring about a possible sense of closure. Maybe hoping for closure is a tad optimistic. I doubt the day will ever come when I declare my experience of breast cancer as being over with, done and dusted. But, I’ll take what I can get. It will be lovely to look at myself in the mirror and feel a little bit more like the old me.
Oh and as an unexpected bonus, Karen also worked her steady handed magic on my radiotherapy marks. The three vivid, bright blue dots (one of which practically glowed from it’s prominent position on my breast bone however hard I tried with the concealer) have now been magically transformed into what I like to call beauty spots and it no longer looks as though I’ve been stabbing myself with a fountain pen.
I really am a lucky girl. New boobs, new nipple and no more strange neon markings. Getting there. Not quite sure where ‘there’ is but I’m bloody determined to find out.
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