I spend a lot of time looking at my naked body in the mirror now. I’ll just stand there amazed. In part because I no longer have the breasts I had a month ago, in part because I cannot understand how they could look so good when they are scarred and nippleless.
I really thought that I would hate my body after this surgery. I mean, my breasts wanted to kill me after all. But I look down at them now with love and understanding. The knowledge that nothing is perfect – no matter how badly you want it – is some powerful shit.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m still angry that my decision on what would happen to my breasts was taken away from me by cancer. Stupid, dumb cancer. The same stupid, dumb cancer that has taught me to appreciate the beauty that is in front of you. It has taught me to look kindly upon my own body, less harsh, less critical. To recognize that nipples do not make one beautiful.
You know what makes me beautiful? The smile that crosses my face when I look out at newly fallen snow. The teardrop that falls from my bright blue eye when I think about how proud I am of my children and the obstacles they have overcome. The forgiveness in my heart. And most of all the love that I show myself by way of grace.
We all know beauty isn’t skin deep. So tell me, what makes you beautiful?
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