I clearly remember putting tennis balls in my top to give myself boobs before 'my time'.
I remember trying to keep my first tube top from falling down.
I remember losing my top after a strong wave on 56 street.
I remember my form fitting songleader sweater.
I remember my boxy t-shirts and Levi jacket.
I remember the first sexy dress I wore to a fraternity formal.
I remember getting measured for my wedding bra.
I remember how they got bigger as I aged + gained weight.
I remember hiding my breasts for 13 years while I taught high school.
I remember them taking over when I was pregnant.
I remember what a difficult time they gave me when I breast fed my first child.
I remember asking my obgyn about some soreness and learning it was just fibrocystic.
I remember Dana + Leah showing me how showing a little cleavage was acceptable.
I remember getting fitted for a good bra.
I remember tweeting from the breast care center about my mammogram.
I remember ordering my bathing suit online.
I remember struggling to put on + take off my sports bra.
I remember feeling the lump for the first time.
I remember the look on my husband's face when we learned my right breast may be trying to kill me.
I remember letting my girlfriends feel my cancerous lump.
I'll remember sitting here crying and my son walking in the room asking what's wrong.
I'll remember sitting on the gym floor watching my son tryout for the basketball team and my daughter asking to sit on my lap + cuddle me because we only have a little time left to do so before my mastectomy.
I'll remember my daughter asking how it will work with my clothes after the surgery since they are made for boobies.
And I'll remember asking myself the same question.
I'll try to remember the good times, the good work, the time we shared playing on the same team.
But that will take time, because I'm angry at you for turning on me.