Rocks in my bra... they help.

The story of me and rocks in my bra has three parts....

Part One...
The summer I was 17, I started putting rocks in my bra.

I was spending a lot of time with my friend Beth and my little sister Pam. Mom worked a lot, I had an old stationwagon and Beth more or less lived with us that summer. The only real restrictions we had were that our entertainment couldn't cost much money and we had to be home when Mom got home from work. As you can imagine, we had a lot of fun that summer....

One of the things we did was to 'rearrange' "For Sale" signs. I'd drive, Pam and Beth would hop out and do the rearranging part. We'd move signs from the houses to the homes of our friends -- the school -- or wherever would amuse us. We/I never drank and drove -- we'd save the drinking for AFTER the driving....

As we'd drive along, we'd talk. The three of us, at the time, were pretty flat chested and this was a common topic of conversation. At one stop Beth grabbed a handful of rocks and gave them to us to fill our bras... because "if we put something in there, maybe the real ones will get the picture and grow..." Beth was always practical like that -- I miss her.

The next fall and winter, Beth and I turned 18... so we stopped doing illegal stuff because we'd be adults and it would be on our permanent record if/when we got caught. Not long after that, Beth moved away and we lost touch. A while later, my chest grew... and I didn't need the rocks.

Part Two, almost seven years ago....
My sister Pam died when she was barely 30 and I was almost 33. It was sudden and shocking and probably the most terrible thing that has ever happened to me (yes, including the breast cancer... at least so far). Nobody that hasn't lost a sibling like that can really understand how hard it is -- and I don't expect you to, nor do I wish that experience on my worst enemy (well.. no, really not -- not even her... ).

When we got to my mom's place the Sunday after she died, I went into the guest room. Pam died up at my mom's -- and I could feel her spirit there with me.

I looked down at the bedside table and saw a small blue-gray rock. I immediately slipped it into my bra on the left side, just to have something of Pam with me.

The rock stayed with me all week. Every hug I got -- I felt it. Every time I thought I couldn't survive this awfulness, I'd feel it and know that was just dramatic BS. I would survive, I'd prosper and although I'd miss her -- my life would go on.

I wish I could say that I have that particular rock with me -- but, it disappeared shortly after Pam's funeral. I suppose I didn't need it as badly then as I did the first few days after she died.

Part Three
June, this year...

The thing about having a mastectomy is that you suddenly become uneven. I'm pretty well endowed, so I'm VERY uneven... and, while I'm getting used to it, it does provoke some odd looks...

Also, getting a proper prosthesis requires measuring etc -- that can't be done until the incision is fully healed. That healing takes 6-8 weeks. In the meantime, I've been using a breastform full of synthetic stuffing. The problem with the breast form is that it tends to look perky, while my natural breast looks like it belongs to a 39 year old woman.

The solution -- rocks. Right now I have about four in the form -- but it may need either bigger ones or a couple more... they nestle nicely into the stuffing and don't seem to move, but the fake one is still a bit too perky.

and -- once again, I have rocks in my bra. Pam and Beth would be so proud.